Monday, November 21, 2011

The Case of Randomly Appearing Things With Legs

There is a beautiful, fucking massively bulbous spider living outside my window.  I named her Sherlotte, because she is ginormous but friendly, and we have had many nervous chuckles together in our 127-hour rapport.  As long as she stays on her side of the window life is good.  But when I can't see her I get all fidgetty, thinking she decided to come inside and join me for hot chocolate.  We are not there yet, Sherlotte.  Slow the fuck down. 

She spun herself a six foot web that stretches across the whole window, but the bulk of it is only on the upper half.  I first saw her when I opened my blinds and I shrieked and tried to scramble up on top of the object closest to me for the protection of higher ground (which was definitely a book).

I texted Al the landlord and told him about her and made him promise not to squish her because that would be very messy, like those videos of draining abscesses, and then I thanked him for my new kitchen chandelier.

About two weeks ago I got a text message from him which read, "you are the proud owner of a golden chandelier" and I was all "baohwr?" and then when I got home from work there was a fancy magic chandelier in my kitchen, and I almost hoped Al the Landlord hadn't texted me because then I would have had a thaumaturgical (thaumaturlogical? thaumaturgenical?) mystery to solve ("The Case of the Appearing Chandelier") and that would have been a very exciting mystery indeed!  For the sake of this blog post I wish the chandelier had eight golden curly arms, but there are only six, and because of that this transitional sentence into the next paragraph functions with less than the rhetorical ease I would normally strive towards--

I'd put her at about an inch and a half without legs.  Sherlotte.  And she has eight of those, by the way, golden black, striped and curled shiny dagger legs.  She is easily the biggest spider I've ever seen in person that was not (a) in a terrarium or (b) nailed to a wall in a museum.  This is Chicago.  Not the outback.

You know how spiders are either plastic or furry (those are the legit biological terms, don't fight it) and sometimes they are just pretty jewels with terrifying knives for arms?  Sherlotte is a very pretty plastic spider.  We're friends, because I have to make friends with things that scare me.  It's a thing.

Still, plastic spiders are way less scary than the furry ones.  Furry things usually come with teeth, and teeth lead to bite marks, and I am a fucking ambrosial peach.  Everyone wants to bite me all the time.  

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11 comments:

daisyfae said...

i would read "The Case of the Appearing Chandelier" if it were a "Rassles Drew Mystery"... you DO have titian hair. whatever color that it, it is what Nancy Drew had...

glad you didnt name her "Shelob"...

nursemyra said...

you ambrosial peach you.....

Kono said...

Make sure you feed her or she will take her revenge even though i know sacrificial bugs are hard to come by this time of year.

Ellie said...

My Dog is furry and has big teeth and I have bite marks (NOT HER FAULT) yet you would still probably want to snuggle with her than Sherlotte.

Rassles said...

Well, dogs aren't scary at all. I think it's because they have regular amounts of eyes and legs.

Rassles said...

Also because DOGS ARE AWESOME.

Here In Franklin said...

Two of my coworkers are obsessed with the pus-draining videos. Gah--wish I hadn't just typed that.

Logical Libby said...

We used to have a spider living behind our mailbox. She was gorgeous. Then my husband found her. Spider killing bastard.

formerly fun said...

I want a Christmas card from you AND Sherlotte.

Blues said...

you should so be writing mysteries. you can totally make that shit up. Start with Al. Damn I wish I had a cool landlord. I have to fight for a new showerhead. No love.

Blues said...

you should so be writing mysteries. you can totally make that shit up. Start with Al. Damn I wish I had a cool landlord. I have to fight for a new showerhead. No love.