The other night, I was using Senioritis and Timezoneitis as my excuses to spend an extraordinarily wasteful amount of time on Facebook. Sitting quietly at my computer, listening to Holly's fabulous "spring mix" cd, I decided to have a little snack. Most of my food was eaten before break, so the pickings were slim, but I found the end of a bag of organic corn chips. Delicious, right?
As I reach my hand into the small chips that always live towards the bottom, I felt a little tickle on my left arm. I looked down and saw that a smallish-but-still-frightening spider had descended from the ceiling with my left arm as his destination. [writing this makes it sound frighteningly civil. i assure you, the real-time happenings were anarchical at best]
I squeaked, made extensive brushing-off and shaking motions with all appendages, and tossed a barrage of corn chips into the air.
I now have two problems: I still don't know what happened to the spider, and my floor is covered in corn chip crumbs. Doesn't the Red Cross usually intervene in post-trauma clean up?
[update: as of 2:35am eastern time (i was on ra duty) last night, the spider and i reconciled our differences. now it is dead. commence victory march through the city]
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1 comment:
haha. I can identify. I abhor spiders. I've heard of people who got into awful collisions and car crashes from such an experience as yours. Good thing you weren't driving anywhere, there would have been more of a mess than corn chips. :)
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