(no subject)
Sleep has not come easily lately, so it was nothing unusual when I got out of bed this morning at about 3:45 and wandered, cloud-like, into the kitchen for a glass of apple juice, which path takes me through my bathroom.
Where, as I envied the sleeping cat (Boris) on my bathmat, *SOMETHING* large and black scuttled across the inside of my bathtub.
Upon cautious investigation, it turned out to be a spider the size of a half-dollar (including the legs - we're not talking tarantula here), but closely resembling the sword-spiders from Neverwinter Nights (and no, I can't describe it any better than that).
Once my heart stopped trying to climb out of my chest, I tried to calmly get my glass of juice and go back to my room. But... I couldn't resist looking back in the tub as I passed back through the bathroom, where I saw the only thing worse than seeing the spider still there. The spider was completely gone.
Now, you know there is No Way I am getting into that shower this morning until I can make Joe check it out. It could be in the folds of my towel, up the water spigot, or clinging to the folds of either the vinyl shower liner or the cloth shower curtain. It could be behind my shampoo bottle or under my bar of soap. It could have, and probably has, slipped into the space between the plastic-y shower walls and the plastic-y tub, which mental image is really going to curtail my desire to soak in the tub for some time to come.
I suppose it's remotely possible that Boris got up, caught the spider, ate him long skinny legs and all, and went back to sleep in the time it took me to hunt up a clean glass, pour and consume juice, and come back through the bathroom. It's slightly more likely that Boris gave him instructions on how best to freak me out, as revenge for the sandwich I selfishly refused to share with him earlier.
So here I am, an hour and a half later, still sitting wide awake, expecting the spider and possibly some of his relations to come parading across my bedroom carpet at me. I spent a good ten minutes actually staring at the carpet in the doorway, watching for an army of blade-like spider legs to cross my line of sight.
My alarm goes off in half an hour.
I'm honestly not sure if it's worth it to try to get back to sleep, considering that I'll likely have spidery nightmares.
How is it that I have three cats and two grown men in my house and not one of them is able to protect me from spider incursions?
Where, as I envied the sleeping cat (Boris) on my bathmat, *SOMETHING* large and black scuttled across the inside of my bathtub.
Upon cautious investigation, it turned out to be a spider the size of a half-dollar (including the legs - we're not talking tarantula here), but closely resembling the sword-spiders from Neverwinter Nights (and no, I can't describe it any better than that).
Once my heart stopped trying to climb out of my chest, I tried to calmly get my glass of juice and go back to my room. But... I couldn't resist looking back in the tub as I passed back through the bathroom, where I saw the only thing worse than seeing the spider still there. The spider was completely gone.
Now, you know there is No Way I am getting into that shower this morning until I can make Joe check it out. It could be in the folds of my towel, up the water spigot, or clinging to the folds of either the vinyl shower liner or the cloth shower curtain. It could be behind my shampoo bottle or under my bar of soap. It could have, and probably has, slipped into the space between the plastic-y shower walls and the plastic-y tub, which mental image is really going to curtail my desire to soak in the tub for some time to come.
I suppose it's remotely possible that Boris got up, caught the spider, ate him long skinny legs and all, and went back to sleep in the time it took me to hunt up a clean glass, pour and consume juice, and come back through the bathroom. It's slightly more likely that Boris gave him instructions on how best to freak me out, as revenge for the sandwich I selfishly refused to share with him earlier.
So here I am, an hour and a half later, still sitting wide awake, expecting the spider and possibly some of his relations to come parading across my bedroom carpet at me. I spent a good ten minutes actually staring at the carpet in the doorway, watching for an army of blade-like spider legs to cross my line of sight.
My alarm goes off in half an hour.
I'm honestly not sure if it's worth it to try to get back to sleep, considering that I'll likely have spidery nightmares.
How is it that I have three cats and two grown men in my house and not one of them is able to protect me from spider incursions?