za_lee: (kurogane blush)
[personal profile] za_lee
Who ever said the only sure things in life are death and taxes totally forgot about bugs and loneliness. And I know it might be uber-humanist-squeamish-silly of me to feel this way, but I hate them bugs. Pests, we call them when they intrude on our homes, but I prefer to shelve that distinction to a) preserve the truth of my massacre of them as part of my personal issues rather than any territorial whatever (I don't like them in nature either, which is why I don't do camping) and b) pretend they care about the sincerity with which I approach their extermination.

I'm mad I can get felled by this kind of thing (very unawesome, would say Gil), but the same can be said of greater beings (what's that lion from madagascar?). It was near midnight and I was finally hitting a human bed time for once in forever, when, before my eyes, sailing gently on the breeze of my rotating fan, was a tiny grey spider, like a ghastly kite on an invisible string. 

Had I had a moment longer to be awestruck, I wouldn't have caught the little beast (they all grow up to be fierce, leggy bastards) before it effectively crawled into bed with me. But it didn't take many moments longer for all these things about today to click...the suspicion of fuzz balls floating before my eyes, the distinct feel of a pinch with no usual suspects in sight...yes, where there is one tiny spider, there is bound to be a whole bunch of them spreading from some hatching point.

Luckily, the nest quickly presented itself...and I was able to make a concentrated effort at attack.

*cruelty towards other living beings censored*

After doing a quick sweep of all ceilings, vacuuming the floor, and lightly spraying down possible cracks and openings, I decided a shower was in order (could they be CORPSING IN MY HAIR????). As I wait for my hair to dry, I suddenly recall how Boondocks creator Aaron McGruder once said that Huey, Riley, and G-pa Freeman are all different parts of him. Didn't Philip Pullman also divulge that the gimmick of daemons in his famous trilogy was meant to facilitate narration of interiority?

Well, right about now, the story of my life is showing a personification of a younger me (a childhood friend perhaps, or a rodent) shaking their head at the current me and saying, "You didn't use to be like this."

And this is followed by a flashback montage of the two years I spent on my own in Wisconsin battling spiders that only come in degrees of furry, featuring one scene where an infestation was so sudden, I was smashing them into my rug with my bare hands. Argghhhhhhh! All be damned if I let such trivialities mess with my well-laid plans. 

Man, my childhood friend/rodent sighs, you were such a badass then. And then like Tsukushi from Hana Yori Dango, I gradually work up that old mojo towards unexpected alliances and new experiences!!!!!

If only the toil against such an insignificant certainty could be life altering.

In reality, I'm just shot with adrenaline, so now I'm going sit here twitchily while I try to catch up on some entries. 

For that, I apologize in advance.


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June 2013

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