Wait, how would I properly punctuate that title?
Whatever.
I slept in this morning, much later than I normally do. And because this blog wouldn’t be worth reading if I ended that thought with “and it was nice, the end,” I’m going to bitch about how sleeping longer makes me feel more sleepy and I couldn’t drag myself out of bed this morning and blah blah blah blah blah cut to the part where I’m in my bathroom, still half-asleep, and peering at a bit of dirt on the tile so I go in for a closer look when suddenly blurry floor-speck proceeds to scurry underneath something else.
I woke up VERY FAST after that.
Would I be more "okay" with them if the spiders in my home looked like this? Maybe, but if they did I might instead be worried that they had some sort of arachnid cannabis-growing operation behind my dryer.
I am officially not cool with the number of spiders and other many-legged creatures I’ve encountered in this place. I’m not completely unreasonable – I know there’s gonna be bugs and whatnot, living in an apartment complex that seems to have been nastily carved into a formerly thickly-wooded area. But like Little Miss Muffett herself, I’m fine until one of those sumbitches up and sits right up on my tuffett, in my personal space.
You are forty-million times its size! You are saying, to which I respond Then you come over here and kill all of them!
Occasionally I will see something lurking in a corner, and I’ll leave it be. Like my Dad might say, he ain’t hurtin’ nothin,’ so I’ll leave him alone. But when I spy one of these little fuckers crawling along the wall RIGHT ABOVE MY BED it is ON, asshole.
WHERE’S MY SPIDER KILLING SHOE? as Juanita might say.
I’m considering a kill tally for my home, but I fear that might discourage visitors. It’s not infested, I swear. I mean, after I kill one spider my brain goes into hyper-over-mega-drive and I begin imagining gigantic nests of spiders lurking in every cabinet or drawer but I know that’s not true.
Right? RIGHT?
Will someone please come over and check under my sink?
the sloppy copy 