I'm sitting here, waiting for 5 o'clock to come, so I can fix breakfast, say my Fast prayers and go to bed. I keep opening up FaceFuck, FuckSpace and MyFuckbook hoping that something of interest will pop up and capture my attention. I have Fire.FM churning tunes out on the Lunachicks Station.
So, I'm sitting here. I'm contemplating whether or not I should watch the new episode of RuPaul's Drag Race now - I already know Ongina got kicked off and I'm saddened and don't want to see it happen - or whether I should watch the first 3 episodes of Masters of Horror; Season 2.
I'm just fucking sitting here, trying to figure out what the fuck to do with myself. Whilst doing so, I'm doodling on a piece of notebook paper. I have one pretty good one going on in the top, right hand corner. I started it yesterday morning, after the Fast started, and I wasn't quite sleepy yet. So, I decided to return to it tonight. I turned the light on and was reaching for my paper, pen and the book I was using as a table - The Complete Book of Chinese Horoscopes - and I looked down at my tissue box.
'Lo and behold, what did I spy in my thin, green-marbled cardboard box? A fucking spider. Now, I find spiders to be wicked awesome and fascinating creature...from very much afar, but not so much when they're in my goddamn tissue box.
I didn't scream. I didn't spaz and fall off the bed. I didn't even chuck the fucking box across the room. I made no sudden and jerky movements. The spider was under the plastic flap that covers/contains the tissues in the box. I picked up one of my blankets on my bed, I placed the blanket on the box, placed my hand on the area that the spider was at, and pressed down REALLY hard. I did that slowly and calmly about 5 times. I picked up the blanket, saw the fucker was still jerking, recovered the box, repositioned my hand and punched the box about 3 times.
Yeah, it's dead and curled up at the bottom of my trash can. I kind of don't want to be sitting in my bed, afraid that there is a whole legion of them under my bleedin' pillow. I swear, I keep feeling this crawling sensation on and about me. I hate paranoia.
I REALLY want to open my window to let some of the cool air in, but I don't want another one of those fuckers, or any other green-blooded creature for that matter, coming in my room, crawling about my bed and freaking me out anymore. I don't care if I'm a thousand times bigger than it. If that fucker is venomous, I'm fucked. I don't want to be fucked...at least, not in that way.