on spiders and other good times...
Can someone tell me whey these freakishly large daddy-long-leg spiders insist on nesting within the confines of our garage door handle? Because, seriously. There's nothing I enjoy more than a colony of spiders swooping down and eating my face while I'm innocently trying to open our garage. And I swear, no matter how many times I squish one, the next time I'm at the garage there are about six more in it's place.
It's an evil, evil spider conspiracy, I tell you.
There are even a few places in the duplex where they always reappear, no matter how many squishings I'm carrying out on a weekly basis. When I got home last night, I found a huge spider hanging out on the wall by the door - in EXACTLY the same place I'd squished one earlier in the day. Are you for real, spiders? I did not spare your friend, nor will I spare you. Prepare to meet the heel of my work shoe.
I think I need to invest in bug spray. Except that I need to make sure it's not from the dollar store, because I think that's where Jay bought the last can of bug spray we had - he picked it up for me on his way home, soon after we had moved into the duplex. I had been walking through the living room when all of a sudden I noticed that the entryway was literally CRAWLING with crickets. I think I almost had a stroke.
I called Jay while perched on top of the couch, and managed to get out something to the effect of, "JAY WE ARE BEING TAKEN OVER BY AN INFESTATION OF CRICKETS! AHHHHHH! You need to get home NOW and please pick up some bug spray on your way home! THERE ARE LITERALLY FIFTEEN CRICKETS IN FRONT OF ME AS WE SPEAK! MOTHER OF MERCY!" He was all, "Um, yeah. Calm down." But he did bring the bug spray.
Problem was, that stuff was potent. And although we have windows in the duplex, not all of them open properly. So, if Jay and I ever end up with lung cancer, I'm pretty sure I know where I'm pointing the blame.
In other news, I've been sitting here for the last half-hour, pondering whether or not to turn on my Pilates DVD's. Last time I put them on, I spent most of the thirty minutes shouting my own version of profanities at the screen, so I'm not sure if I'm up for it this morning.
I'm not going to lie; I'd kind of rather eat a huge bagel slathered with peanut butter than do anything remotely affiliated with working out.











16 wrote me a note:
Thoughts? Questions? White cheddar popcorn? Do share.