Sep. 3rd, 2012

fiat_knox: silhouette of myself taken at sunrise (Default)
So, then, in the runup to the weekend I could not help but notice the presence of this huge brown spider in the space outside my bedroom. Big bugger, like a hairy brown dinner plate.

On Saturday afternoon, I noticed that it had breached the perimeter and now sat in the far ceiling corner, above the wardrobe, far out of reach even of the broadsheets, were I the sort to read broadsheets.

Saturday night ... it disappeared. No sign of the damned thing anywhere. I looked all over for it. Nothing.

So I went to bed anyway, with a glass and a piece of card handy, just in case. It never got used. No sign of that monster anywhere.

Until just now.

So there I was, planning on unpacking my book bag and getting my clothes together to hit the street, sitting on my sofa, when I noticed something. Something horrifying.

You see, while I cannot endorse its choice of hiding place, I cannot fault its instincts. The spider, clearly, had a keen instinct to go for the safest location in the room - a venue where, no doubt, it felt quite safe over the weekend.

It had hidden itself inside my bookbag. And while unpacking, it had crawled out of my bookbag and it was now on my trousers.

The trousers I was wearing.

Cue several seconds of cussing and swearing and much frantic leg shaking, as my living room floor became, briefly, a dance floor. But I got rid of it. Somehow.

Current status: Alive, whole, sitting at my laptop, typing these words, getting ready for a spot of shopping in town. But I'm not exactly happy right now. Because I didn't kill it, you see.

It's still here, in the living room.


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