Saturday, April 23, 2005

blame me for the rain

WANTED: a couch, anywhere. Need temporary place to sleep and shower. Promise to clean up blankets in the morning and not have any kind of sex. Will bring wine and cheese sticks as form of payment.

I'm boiling some water for some whole wheat pasta, and as I try to come back in the living room for my book, there he is. A golf-ball sized daddy longlegs, hanging on his web right in front of my face. I've reached a point where the cat's leftover mouse guts don't bug me; scooping up pissed-on newspapers and poop is like, whatever. But looking at this stupid spider and his angular little legs, weaving his way to the floor, I scream like Neve Campbell. My eyes followed his thread up to the ceiling. Sure enough, there was this daddy's daddy. I looked across the ceiling in horror and realized that they were everywhere. A little one over the couch, a huge one near the sliding door, a skinny one over the kitchen doorway. At least six in total. So after standing there dumbfounded for a few minutes and trying not to burn my pasta, I grabbed the nearest fly swatter and starting killing. Now there are spidey corpses everywhere and I think I'm gonna have to go.

I really, honestly feel like I can no longer live here, but Marianne sent me a fax (with "lots of love") saying my emergency contact is Zup. How am I gonna call Zup and tell him I'm leaving? That man probably knows three ways to kill me by looking through his monacle.

3 comments:

Betsy said...

GET OUT NOW! Also...I was always under the impression that daddy long legs are not really spiders and don't actually make webs. Not what you want to hear, I'm sure, but you know.

Kate said...

well then what the hell are they? probably same rare form of spider Miss M got imported from the rainforest to preserve the species

Jenn said...

I recommend a little ditty entitled "Charlotte's Web" by E.B. White to ease your fear of living with the spiders