I don’t care for spiders.

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There is a spider intruding in my domicile, who, lacking the common decency to remain hidden from sight, is splayed out rather proudly on my dining room wall. On a white wall, in sort of overlapping spotlights provided by one of the floor lamps. Blocking my way past the table by not providing me a wide enough berth in which to maneuver.

I found it kind of irritating that it did not scurry away at my approach. It didn’t even pull all of its legs in and try to be small. It was offensively oblivious to my proximity. I thought it might be dead – like it might have just wanted a really dramatic place to die or something – so I leaned a little closer to look at it. It turned slightly in disdainful acknowledgement, but otherwise would not budge.

I’m not moving either.

Another slight turn. Challenging. Like, Hey, what’s up? You see something you like?

Eat a dick, spider. I don’t need anything on that side of the room tonight anyway. I’ll get it in the morning, when I have forgotten you are there.

Mice

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Of late, I have been dealing with a mouse problem in my apartment. Every now and then I see one racing across the kitchen floor from the basement toward whatever secret portal they have carved out underneath my sink. This leaves me reluctant to enter my kitchen, supposing that the mouse is now lying in wait for my feet to appear specifically so it can race across my toes.

Last time this happened I found that I could not walk back into the kitchen without scanning floor, walls and ceiling for suspect movement. I do not actually think the mice can scale smooth walls, my mind just couldn’t cope with all the space flagged “unknown” just above my head. Every time I tried to walk back in, it’s like I could feel my skin recoiling in an effort to drag me back the other way.

I’m not sure what I was expecting. Mice rappelling from the ceiling? Possibly an enormous spider wielding a mouse?

I think this actually started near the end of August. I recall finding a bag of Skillet’s dog food with the corner chewed away – so I started storing it in a plastic bin and assumed that would be that. But now it very cold and there are trails of mouse smell leading them right back to my basement. I live in a fairly old building, so the basement “walls” are essentially stacked rocks covered with crumbling plaster. I can’t imagine this provides much of a barrier to any small creatures wishing to gain entrance.

At least it’s not fruit flies. There was a period last summer where every piece of fruit I purchased managed to rot and erupt into a cloud of fruit flies within 24 hours. While perhaps not as potentially hazardous in terms of disease as mice are, they were certainly more present. Just a constant source of aggravation hanging out at the entrance to my kitchen.

We have already had apartment maintenance here to address the problem. They gave us a bunch of traps and poison to set out, and said it would be a good idea to leave the poison out indefinitely – mice are a thing you just have to deal with in an old building due to random gaps in floorboards and whatnot. Also, they replaced our garbage disposal, which had been leaking. This provided a small drinking pond under the sink for the mice to enjoy. Leaking water is apparently just as much of a draw to mice as open food.

Given the plague-like nature of my recent woes, I would just like to put this out there: If you are a gypsy, and I have somehow offended you or a favorite son or daughter of your clan, I would like to formally apologize. I assure you that any slight to your bloodline was wholly unintentional.

Should your scrying reveal this post to you, please do hit me back and we can talk this out. It ain’t gotta be this way.

My day so far

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Reach for cookie jar full of dog biscuits to give my awesome dog for being awesome.

Discover a black jumping spider chillin like a villain on the side of the jar.

Spider: Hey man, what’s up? Mind if I jump over there for a closer look at your face?
Me: hrrmmmyaaflrgrble

Launch cookie jar away from body just as the spider jumps.

Spider, now full of wtf, is scurrying around on the floor. Stops to gaze up at the dog. I look at him like “Maybe you handle this?”.

He responds with a look that says “I just wanted a cookie” and takes off upstairs.

Spider races over to hide in the shelves that house tools & miscellaneous hobby supplies before I can grab a weapon.

First floor has been ceded to the spider.

Takeway: Target sells unbreakable cookie jars.

She Keeps All The Monsters Away

I am afraid of spiders.

I don’t care if they are the tiny brown variety that desperately tries to skitter away as soon as it sees me or the vile creatures the Discovery Channel hosts an “Xtreme Predators” special on every other week. If any member of your kin can cause this, I’ll have no part of you.

I’m not entirely certain what it is about them that troubles me so. Most can’t hurt me and, on an entirely intellectual level, I am aware of the benefit that they as a species provide to mankind. I think the problem lies primarily with the legs – they are entirely too many. They make me think of self propelled polydactylized little hands. That will grab you. And bite. I will admit that this particular aspect of my phobia may arise from a less than rational area of my psyche.

So yesterday, as I was sitting at my desk, one of the little abominations descends from the ceiling. It brushes my forehead and settles somewhere in my personal space. As I have quite a large amount of hair, I immediately begin to panic – naturally assuming it’s goal was to get tangled up in a bleached blonde mop. I managed to keep myself under a small bit of control and just rolled my chair across to the woman in the cube next to me. I explained the situation and asked her to check my hair for spiders.

She noticed that I was shaking and just generally terrified and said, “Oh, you poor thing.” She proceeded to march over to my cube, wave her arms over my desk and announce – in her thick Romanian accent – that all spiders had to go away from my desk. She then turned to me, brushed her hands together and proudly proclaimed “There, no more spiders here.”

I just stood next to my desk for a few seconds after she sat down – not quite sure what to do after having essentially been reduced to a 5 year old.

It does actually make me feel a little better to know that I have a hex from the old world guarding my work space though.