This morning Ryan had left early to go fishing, and I was making the bed. To my utter horrification, a large spider scurried out from under MY PILLOW. I shrieked and ran out of the room in my usual that’s-a-spider-and-I-can’t-act-like-a-24-year-old-strong-woman-because-I-want-someone-else-to-be-my-spider-killer sort of way. Once I recovered from my initial encounter, I returned to my room to find the spider near the hamper. I picked up a shoe and started to smash the spider as much as possible. Shaking, I left the room again, briefly. Lazarus II rose from the dead and scurried to God knows where.
Admittedly, it has been terribly long since I’ve posted, and so much has happened since the last post—several camping trips, a trip to London and lots of normal life.
It might be awkward after such a long silence to post about spiders, but it’s been all I can think about all day.
The story really starts last night. Small group was happening at our house, so a few friends and I were sitting in our living room catching up on life when out of the corner of my eye I saw a small, but ferociously scurrying, spider. I begged for someone to kill it, and a heroic friend acted swiftly by smashing the spider into the floor with her shoe. We resumed conversation. I could scarcely believe it, but after a few short moments, the spider resumed it’s disgusting and creepy scurry. Needless to say the smashing was more dramatic and final the second time around, and I’m thankful to report that Lazarus the first was triumphantly defeated on a rainy September evening.
I wish I had such a fairy tale ending to share about Lazarus II. When exactly did spiders start rising from the dead?
I don’t think I’m going to sleep for a month.
On a different note, check out deniselillyphotography.blogspot.com to see what I’m trying to start as a side business.