Friday 8 July 2011

Confession...

Please don't laugh at this but I killed a spider.

I hate spiders, they freak me out in varying degrees according to size and movement and I can tell you that a very large spider avatar reduced me to a quivering wreck on a couch in S/L once.
Having said all that, I don't kill them. There are 2 reasons for this.
  1. I don't kill things, not earwigs, not ants (no, not even when they grow wings and swarm), well ok, maybe I don't count mosquitos in this but I don't kill other things.
  2. My partner has a big issue with spiders being killed (an ancient family story of his which I respect) and he is consequently more than happy to escort them to safety. In fact I can't remember killing a spider since I met him until now.

There was one on the bedroom ceiling the other day, on approach the crafty thing dropped like a stone, as they do. "It's gone" he said "It bloody well isn't!" I thought.

Well my rescuer is not here and it, or one of it's brethren, just showed up. On the floor? the ceiling? across the room? Nooooo of course not. On the bedside table that abutts my mattress, inches from my elbow. Long front leg-type too so I knew there wouldn't be much time (and I didn't have my wine glass and postcard kit to hand). There was a mug nearby and......well it's done. I would have preferred putting it outside but knew if it ran, I couldn't sleep in my bed   - it or me! I still feel bad though.

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