A Cautionary Tale.

Today's story is of a more...ahem....personal nature than is our usual fare,

including intimate details, and may be uncomfortable or not well-suited to the more sensitive among us....so proceed with caution, Dear Reader.

Still with me?

Okay, here we go...

I went into the bathroom
   

-- now, if you can't get past the opening line, here's your chance to bail out -- 

for a routine visit -- just doing the kind of thing girls sometimes do in the bathroom (if you are a boy, use your imagination) without a care in the world. Thinking about how I needed to do some deadheading on the potted flowers on the front porch, actually....

When suddenly, and as a matter of course, I happened to glance down.

Now boys, let me stop here and explain that girls are accustomed to the ins and outs of dealing with foreign objects in personal areas, and think nothing of finding, for instance, a string hanging there, because they probably placed it there themselves with good reason and are in fact in the bathroom performing a managerial task related to it in some way...but I digress...


Anyway, in this instance I glanced down and, adjacent to the expected string....a thread...

WITH A SPIDER HANGING FROM IT.  

A SPIDER WAS SPINNING A WEB....THERE???!!!

The scene got a little noisy and dramatic at that point, especially for a routine bathroom visit, so I will spare you any further details, but if you have been a Small Works reader for any time at all you probably know how I feel about spiders.  Just about the last thing I'd want....dangling from my...whatever.

A twisted nightmare version of Little Miss Muffet in which the spider has somehow taken up permanent residence in her tuffet AND believes he is entitled to have unlimited access to her curds and whey...

It raises several questions, of course -- I wanted to know:

a) how it got there
b) how long it had been there, and
c) whether it was actually making any kind of future plans whatsoever....I shudder to think.

Hannah suggested the new Swiffer 360 duster, which she says they claim can fit just about anywhere.


It all reminded me of the Dr. House episode in which they finally figure out that a tick has crawled into a girl's thingamajig and bitten her and as a result she is dying from an array of bizarre and horrifying symptoms.  (So will someone please keep an eye on me . . . ?)

I don't know what the moral of the story is, 

I only know I wish it didn't involve ME. 

And I guess it's now become painfully obvious that I've been living alone for too long -- actually DEVELOPING COBWEBS and not just in a metaphorical sense.

We're talking about actual cobwebs, people.  With tenants.

Someone buy my house, please.