Alright, I've done it again. But I swear, it was an accident! If I had known how it was going to turn out...I mean, I NEVER would have done things the way I did! Please don't judge me, for I know not what possessed me to behave so...oh, it's just so horrible.
I know, I can't believe it either!
...I killed a spider.
Well, okay, not killed...but...maimed. Effectively ruined. And I so didn't mean to! I mean, you know me - I just think about the little spider husband or wife, forever waiting for their other half to return home. But he/she NEVER WILL! And if they had little babies, little tiny spider babies, they'll never see their mom or dad again. BECAUSE OF ME!
I'm so ashamed.
But it was an honest mistake...
So there I am, in my bathroom, drying my hair. And I've been known to have daddy-longlegs in my bathroom before, so it's not like seeing one makes me scream and flee the scene. But this particular little spider happened to be closer to me than I'd like.
Like, on the wall directly to my right, as opposed to...say...on the ceiling and across the room from me.
And my hair dryer is sending this jetstream of air out, so I think, "Hey, I'll just aim at the spider. Scare him a little. Shoo him away." So I do.
And it works!
Except for he starts running closer to me instead of farther. And his relative proximity was the problem in the first place.
So I'm thinking, "We'll see about that, mister!" and I air-blast him again. He drops from the wall and onto the counter.
HELLO! That's even closer, still! Persistent little bugger!
Enter air-blast number 3!
This time he flung himself forth, so to speak, effectively taking refuge between my sink knobs and the wall.
By now, not only am I wasting time that I need to use to be beautifying, but I'm also tired of fighting the battle. So I decide it's good enough that I can keep an eye on him. And he's not moving a whole lot. Which at first had me afraid he was dead, but then I saw him moving and figured he was just stunned. I mean, to be fair, his little spider life just flashed before his eyes, and he's surely a bit windblown. For him, a hair dryer is probably a hurricane. And I the cruel giant in control of the weather. Sort of.
Anyway. I finish drying my hair, straighten it, and I'm gone. This was at like...eleven. I have some stuff to do, and then class at 5:30, and then work at 7:30. So I don't get home until...uhm...maybe 2, 2:30 in the ever-lovin' AM.
I'm in the bathroom, reaching for my toothbrush in a kind of work-induced daze, when I realize that the spider is still where he was. And I had figured that by the time I'd gotten home he'd definitely be somewhere else. Probably the ceiling. Or hiding. From the giant with the hurricane-gun.
But no. He lay where he had fallen. And it's been a long night, I'm feeling a bit emotional anyway, (I won't go into it, but if I don't get enough sleep I get CrankyEmotionalWhineyIrritableSadAngryDepressed, all around a complete pain to be around. And this doesn't include my normal emotional state. The kind where I cry during commercials. And songs. And from looking at a picture. And movies. Books. Thoughts. Tangles in my hair. O_O ) so I think, "Great. He's dead."
And I do that thing that I think most people do when you see something and think, "Is it dead? I don't want to touch it..."
Yes. I blew on it. This is especially effective with bugs.
And sure enough, his little...I don't know...those short little things on the 'face' side of his round little body started to wiggle. So he was still alive. Only still in the same place...
That's when I notice his legs...
The ends, like...the feet part that don't look like 'feet', are all curled up. Pretty much on all of them. Like they look when the spider they're attached to is dead. And then it hits me.
The heat from my hair dryer must have basically fried his legs.
Remember how I said I was tired, and therefore emotionally unstable --moreso? Yeah. I cried. I felt absolutely awful. I would rather have accidentally killed the poor guy. But instead, I rendered him useless. Unable to walk. Or climb walls. Get food. Live. You know, those important functions.
But of course I STILL didn't have it in my to squish the guy, even thought technically I guess that would have been more 'humane', so what do I do? I flush him down the toilet.
And think, somewhere in the back of my poor little imagination, that maybe the cool water will...uh...fix his legs. And when he finds himself in the sewer he'll be able to somehow...hitch a ride on a leaf or something and get somewhere safe and sound, dry out, and smell his way back home to his loving family.
...
Yeah, even I'm like "Oh wow," at myself.
Needless to say, I went to bed feeling like a horrible murderer, The End.
Explain to me how I can cry over a spider, but some of my favorite places to eat are Chick Fila, Chapps (Burgers to Die For!), and Springcreek Barbeque.
**An Update**
Yeah, so after I posted this I went into my bathroom to get ready for bed... And I stepped on another spider. It's like a massacre! I'm a killing machine! :(
2 comments:
Aww, poor Sarah. If it makes your murderous rage seem any less, um, murderous...you should know, I killed a spider in cold blood without much thought or malice the other day in the store.
Just stepped on it with my shoe.
He looked funny to me. Like one of those killing spiders.
You know, one of the ones that waits until you aren't looking, jumps on you and bites you thus inserting the poison that no one will recognize until you are hooked up to the heart and pulmonary machines, your blood being fed through bypass machines, your life draining from you as the doctors, nurses, specialists, CDC, and every local church, school, writing group, and news report pray for your life all because when you came into the doctors office, he thought it was a pimple and sent you home with acne cream which you duitifully applied like a good little soul until the pimple turned black and your nose fell off and your toes curled under in your shoes until you couldn't wear your shoes anymore so you decided that it was time to possibly go to the hospital to get your toes checked out, but of course, the spider bite is the equivalant of a football field away from those damn toes, so they don't know or don't even think to look at your little black pimple, which now more resembles a mole than a pimple and in fact, why would they be concerned about a mole in the first place, that is, until the original doctor, who just happened to step in because he was checking on a patient who had just given birth to twins, one with a funny nose, notices you sitting behind the curtain and asks, "Hey, how's the zit going" and you mention the fact that the zit in question is now a hairy looking mole that has started spraying greenish ooze around the room, thus landing you in quarantine, the CDC in your house, and all the local news, church, writing and such groups praying for you.
Yeah I killed the sucker.
Haha! Oh Mary, you crack me up! I know exactly the spider you're talking about - one of those 'you look like you could kill me, ad so I must kill you first' spiders.
Those I don't feel as bad about...erm...getting rid of.
;)
Post a Comment