Spiders, Zebras & Tomatoes
This morning, I was leaving my bedroom (where I sleep) to get a glass of water from the kitchen (where I obtain glasses of water), and there, on the floor in our hallway, was a giant spider!
So this spider was, thank goodness still...very, very still, which meant it had breathed its last putrid, breath, and had joined its ancestors in spider heaven. I ran to the kitchen to unroll the entire paper towel roll. You see, when picking up a dead spider—which I have done exactly one other time, and that was only because Adam wasn't home to do the deed for me...he was off gallivanting around Europe with his brother - Sorry, where was I? Yes. When picking up a dead spider, it is essential that you avoid being able to feel any of its contours or textures.
Okay. So you don’t want to feel it, because then you risk dropping it in horror, and then you risk it landing somewhere on your person, and that as we all know leads to death, because there’s no reason to live once that happens. So you get a whole roll of paper towels, wrap them around your hand so that you have created a Paper Mitt of Protection, and you lean over carefully, and quickly scoop it up, hoping that it wasn’t only pretending to be dead.
So this spider was, thank goodness still...very, very still, which meant it had breathed its last putrid, breath, and had joined its ancestors in spider heaven. I ran to the kitchen to unroll the entire paper towel roll. You see, when picking up a dead spider—which I have done exactly one other time, and that was only because Adam wasn't home to do the deed for me...he was off gallivanting around Europe with his brother - Sorry, where was I? Yes. When picking up a dead spider, it is essential that you avoid being able to feel any of its contours or textures.
Okay. So you don’t want to feel it, because then you risk dropping it in horror, and then you risk it landing somewhere on your person, and that as we all know leads to death, because there’s no reason to live once that happens. So you get a whole roll of paper towels, wrap them around your hand so that you have created a Paper Mitt of Protection, and you lean over carefully, and quickly scoop it up, hoping that it wasn’t only pretending to be dead.
Which this one was. Pretending, that is. To be dead.
When I touched the thing with my paper mitt of protection, it ran right at me, over my toes, and past me.
Let me repeat: Over my toes. My toes. Right over them.
I screamed. It blindly skittered around my hallway, climbed the wall and then I lost sight of it. It will be back I'm sure and next time he just might bring a friend. *Shudder*
I assure you that the rest of our weekend has been pretty uneventful. Yesterday we took a drive out to the nursery to buy our tomato and pepper plants. I love tomatoes but what I love even more are Heirloom tomatoes...yum, yum! I especially adore the fact that they are so darn ugly and colorful. They have character.
I also adore my zebra rain boots
Sunday...a day of relaxation and hopefully a day of finally being able to eat real food!
Oh I hate spiders when they are inside. Bugs do not belong inside and pretending to be a dead spider is just sadistic. Glad you survived!
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