Tuesday, September 06, 2005

This has NOT been a good evening.

I hate spiders. Hate, hate HATE them. There is nothing I'm afraid of more than a hobo spider. So, it only makes sense that one of them was in bed with me tonight. Yes, I was in bed reading and saw something scurry across my comforter (not very comforting at the moment) about two inches in front of my nose. I screamed and jumped out of bed. Christian came running in and he found Gigantor on the side of the bed. It was huge - at least three inches long and two inches wide. We caught it in the juice pitcher and Christian took it out and killed it. It looked exactly like this. I'm going to hurl.

Also, one of my parents' very best friends and neighbors died of ovarian cancer last night. She lived across from my folks for ten years and went, in two months, from perfectly healthy to hospitalized. They are, of course, extremely sad. I'm hoping to be able to go to Spokane for the service.

Tonight sucks. I can't sleep now.

5 comments:

Das Klaun said...

Your comments seem to be getting spammed. Time to sic the spiders on them.

Our parking spot faces a tall hedge, so we often have to pick spiderwebs off the van before we get in. A couple of weeks ago I was driving along and suddenly one of those red-and-white spiders crawled up the windshield, the kind with the long body and thick legs you usually see sitting in webs between tree branches. It was on the outside, and the wipers sent it packing, but I did shriek like a castrati.

AAM said...

spiders cannot castrate you. I am sorry suz about your moms neighbor. That's sad. She was nice.

AAM said...

also, if there were no spiders you'd be knee deep in flies. GAK.

AAM said...

also....isn't the politically correct name for it a 'homeless person' spider?

Das Klaun said...

Flies I can handle. Flies are right out there, and they make a satisfying THUNK when you whack 'em out of the air. Spiders lurk. They hide and they lie in wait, so that when you go to organize that pile of shoes by the bed, you pick up one of your Chucks and suddenly one of those spiders hops out, the ones with the tiny body that are all legs, and go scurrying over your hand. And by the time you recover, and go to smush them with the shoe, they've already run off behind the dresser, to lurk some more.

"Spiders cannot castrate you" my ass. Tell that to my testes, which retract up into my globules every time one of those little bastards crawls across my lap while I'm driving.