WTF! My bathroom has been turned into a spider maternity ward.
*Imagine there is a spider picture here. My assistant is too afraid of spiders to look one up for me and convinced me this was funnier. Looking you, Rose Granbacka.*
This morning I finally stumbled into my bathroom at zero dark thirty. Okay, it was really11:34 a.m., and I hit the snooze button about twenty times before that. Hey! Ranger tinkled at sevenish so he was good to go. And the pillows were in just the right place. It was dark like a vampire coffin (’cause that’s how I roll), the blankie was in the right place, and the dog was in the right place. The AC was blasting so I was happy, and I had the day off from the BUX. It was Baby Warwick day which meant I wasn’t going to be doing any writing so I could snooze. (Baby W is my roommate’s grandson.) Yes, I am justifying the fact that I slept in, just in case my mom reads my blog because she’s German and Catholic and sleeping in is against the 15th commandment. Commandments 11-14 are for another blog post on another day. Who wanted to get out of bed on a day like that? Let’s be real sleep is the only thing in the world where you can accomplish something by doing absolutely nothing. I like that concept.
Back to the spiders in my the loo. Those little bastards. By the way, that term which is technically and grammatically correct because spiders don’t marry before they birth their babies. I’m sure most baby mama spiders kill their mates after he does his business ’cause, you know, she’s hungry after they have canoodled. I have nothing against spiders, per se. They don’t scare me (unlike some people I know. Looking at you again, Rose Granbacka). I am secure in the knowledge that I am the alpha predator at least in my bathroom, and I can kill them. They are quick, but I have the bigger brain, and if I don’t hit my head on the sink while I’m in hot pursuit I’m gonna win the war.
One of those little jerks was doing the samba across my bra. I hook it on the door handle to dry after I wash it out to dry because working at Starbucks means a lot of things go down your shirt. Last night it was white mocha sauce. Tasty but sticky. (Remind me to tell you about the day I got a hot almond sliver down there. I still have the scar. That is a pain you can’t deal with because you’re in the Front-of-House, and you have to watch your language and where you stick your hand.)
I felt a tad guilty killing the spiders since they were babies but they broke the rules. Yes, I have a bathroom rules. Nature is not allowed in there under any circumstances. The only one who gets to see me naked in the bathroom is the dog. And only because he doesn’t judge my bumps, rolls, and jiggles. He just loves me because I know where the dog food is, and I’m always happy to share it. Well really it’s all his, but this is my how I maintain control or there would be anarchy. Anarchy is messy, and I don’t have a full-time maid.
This is why I’m a big supporter of environment causes. I want nature to have a place to exist… as far from me as possible. My idea of enjoying nature is the Nat Geo channel or my patio with a cocktail and a cigarette. You go out in nature, and you became part of the food chain. I don’t have to worry about a leopard stalking me in my backyard or a Great White in the pool. I should not have to live in fear of spiders in my bathroom or the one time the cat brought a gopher into my bed. Thanks, Kitty. Hey, Nature I’m going to have to Gandalf this again. “You shall not pass the doggie door.” Who doesn’t love a chance to quote Lord of the Rings? The movie, not the book. The book wasn’t in American.
AKA the J of J.M. Jeffries
AKA Simone Harlow