swarm

I am not askaired of spiders. Which is a good thing, because we are suddenly living in world of B-movie terror. Any minute, Samuel L. Jackson will come crashing through the sliding glass doors screaming, "MOTHERFUCKING SPIDERS!" and I will have to do a slinky dance in platform boots.

Put up your hand for a moment. Wiggle your fingers. Walk your hand across your knee. There, you have been acquainted with the type of creatures we are here discussing. Scream now if you need to.

While taking a hot shower, I looked up through the steam and saw I had a companion. He looked at me. I looked at him. I pointed my razor at him as a warning and then bent to shave my leg. Glanced up, and he was gone. Because he had skittered across the ceiling and was CROUCHING OVER MY HEAD. Leaped from the shower and ran with dignity to the bedroom with a headful of unrinsed conditioner.



Being very protective of my precious lady shaving gel, I peeked back in on the stubbly-legged creature a minute later. Found a second spider applying my makeup in front of the bathroom mirror.



Decided to pretend I had not seen these things. Went to the livingroom for a bit of drawing. Two chortling dinosaurs later, something skittered past the couch.

OMFG ANOTHER FACE-EATING SPIDER.



I don't know why the cats have not devoured these creatures yet. Probably because they have been tied up and glued to the ceiling somewhere.

So far, none have turned up inside the toilet, and that is priority #1. Was not funny last time it happened.