Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Spiders...

I've been annoying spiders for a great deal of today. I've been cleaning the windows. A job I eventually drag myself round to doing once every couple of years when the light levels inside get so low we have to wear head torches to eat our tea and Merriol starts dropping some of her famous really heavy hints:

"Liam, remember when light used to come out of those rectangles on the walls?"

Post Hoc rationalisation for my not doing cleaning the windows all this summer (and I must remember this for next year) being that there were lots and lots of spiders living in our window frames. I'm not scared of spiders; quite the oposite, I like them. Spiders eat midges. This is a good thing. Some people buy expensive gas powered machines to kill midges, I just encourage huge numbers of spiders to live in my house. Now it's getting later in the year and the midges have gone for the winter (packed their tiny little suitcases and fucked off to Ibiza or wherever it they go between September and April) the spiders have outlived their usefulness for a bit, so I have been downsizing the local population. I would especially like to downsize the one that frightened the crap out of me in bed the other night. There I was, happily lying there reading some trashy SF novel, when, over the breast of the duvet hill on my chest, charged this spider the size of a small hamburger on legs. I swear to Darwin this thing was on a mission. It was heading straight for my throat, its master's instructions still ringing its ears:
"Go, my little eight-legged friend. Kill, Kill, Killl!!!...!"
I screamed like a girl, threw the duvet to one side, and leapt out of bed. I stood there for ages, bollock naked, book in hand, ready to whack the fucker, wondering where it had gone. I still have no idea. I've not seen it again.

Other highlights of the week included finding I had (literally) poured god knows how much heating fuel down the drain by not tightening up a nut when I bled a valve on the heating system five months ago. I should have checked on this at some point during the summer but never did get round to it, partially because the nettles around that part of the garden had grown to over two meters in hight (that's over six foot in Earth money). I generally stay away from scarily huge, diesel powered weeds.

I wonder if there is any link with the scarily huge spider?

Oh bum! Now I really have pressed most of the buttons in the bad monster movie fuelled part of my imagination (ie most of it - though there is a small portion that thrives on chocolate). Now I'm not going to be able to get sleep tonight. I mean this is how most monster movies start out: an accidental spillage, seemingly trivial incidents that slowly add up to form a larger picture which only become clear when Timmy the adorable terrier is discovered lying dead beneath a quivering six foot plant that WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE THIS MORNING!!!!

Oh Crap.

I haven't got a dog.

I wonder if I can borrow one.

2 comments:

Boegle said...

That spider totally has a crush on you now. I suggest a bigger book.

Anonymous said...

You are too funny!

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