(no subject)
In the dark, a little while ago, a large, COLD, crawly thing went across my cheek and onto my neck. I screamed three times. Josh woke up. I couldn't find the dimmer switch in my tangled bedclothes. A bite? I'm not sure. Found the switch. Up on my knees. Shake the blankets. Please find it, please find it. A penny-sized spider: Brown with a hard, angular body. I can't help but shriek again. Josh makes groaning sounds and I try to explain. I've unsuccessfully crushed it under the plate from my dessert, and finally, crunched it's life away with the tines of a chocolate-covered fork. My heart is racing, and I doubt I'll sleep anytime soon. I hate spiders in bed.
There's a hive-like swelling on my neck. Another on the back of my wrist. I hope I feel hot because it's hot, and not because it was vaguely poisonous. I hope I'm dizzy because I'm tired.
There's a hive-like swelling on my neck. Another on the back of my wrist. I hope I feel hot because it's hot, and not because it was vaguely poisonous. I hope I'm dizzy because I'm tired.