Writing in the evening, unwinding from the first day back at work after the long weekend. It is black and rainy out. I can hear the forced air banging against the shuttered heat vent in the studio and I am finally beginning to warm up.
The house is quiet. Don doesn’t have the television on, I don’t have any music queued, and the dogs have mellowed out.
The calendar on my wall is flipped over to October (again). I really need to get a piece of clear tape and fix the little tear that keeps pulling November off – but, then it will be December on Wednesday so why bother?
There’s a pale spider crawling on the black lamp.
That’s a dangerous position for a spider to be in. I don’t mind arachnids but I do tend to kill them when they are inside my house. Spiders belong outside.
I may let this one live a little while seeing as how I squashed a silverfish in the attic the other day. I can live with a spider.
Don just informed me that Oregon Public Broadcasting is presenting a folk reunion. I’d love to go sit and listen but I don’t want to sit through the endless pledge drive and all the interviews – and there isn’t anything for me to DO while the show airs. I can’t just sit still for the next two hours. I just want to listen to the music: Roger McGuinn, the Chad Mitchell Trio and Barry McGuire are being highlighted. But it doesn’t sound like they will be interviewing all the currently living legends, so I am giving it a pass.
I bet I can find their music online and listen.
That spider hasn’t moved much. Does it think some errant bug is going to fly to it? It needs to go crawl around under the book cases and hunt for silverfish. It is creeping me out perched up there on my lamp.
The silverfish I killed was twice the size of this guy. Girl? How do you know what sex a spider is?
Do I even care to find out?
It is still black and rainy out but at least I no longer have Writer’s Block.
What else is a spider good for in the house?
Oh yeah: to kill silverfish. Hunt well my little eight-legged, eight-eyed transparent assassin.
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