And that was going to be the end of the post. All calm and wordless, like a poem of Denim Silk Ribby Shell pictures. But could my life leave well enough alone? Noooooooooooo. Do I have a cute and sweet story about bluebird fledglings? Noooooooo. But it's a nature story.
I.am.freaking.out. Every follicle, every cell, every strand of my hair is crawling and itching. I can't sit still and I'm batting at little baby cobwebs in the air.
A nest of spiders has hatched in my home office. It happened exactly this way last year. I don't remember if I blogged about it or not, but I certainly do remember the incident. It lasted over a period of several days, from when the spiders first hatched and were invisible to the naked eye, but my skin could feel the little bastards biting me and crawling on me and landing on me, but I could not see anything, so I naturally assumed I was losing my frickin' mind, to when the next day they got a little bit bigger and I thought perhaps I could see something, to the third day when it was make-no-mistake, this is an endless stream of 64 million little spiders falling from the ceiling directly onto me and my laptop and my printer, definitely heading for me purposefully. They were little paratroopers looking for blood, and they were making me CRAZY. Once I could see them, I could at least stand armed with the vacuum cleaner and vacuum them up as they came down, and if I could see them in their microscopicness crawling on the ceiling, I could vacuum them up there before they rained down upon me.
This year I am onto them, so it only took me about an hour of being bitten and crawled on and cobweb-mummified before I figured out what the hell was going on. This is the exact moment that my prized posh expensive printer decided to go berserk (I suppose one of the little fuckers got inside the fan or chewed a computer wire or something) which caused me to in turn go berserkier.
A bunch of freaky numbers and symbols. (You do see freaky numbers and symbols, right? Or am I just having a psychotic episode?) And the printer kept shutting off and back on and doing "self test," and obviously flunking the self-test and shutting itself off again. With about 1,400 pages to print in the next couple of days, hyperventilation was definitely in order.
But first the scritchy-scratchy-dance and the vacuuming of the ceiling. And the walls. And the curtain rods. And the lamp over my desk. And behind the desk. And the fan in the printer. And the other computer. And every inch of the floor. And the air. And the air conditioner and the curtains. And next I was ready to take down the sheetrock and vacuum behind it and knock down the wall of the house. And then shave my head and vacuum up the shavings and burn my clothes. After that, I wanted to take the vacuum cleaner and put cement shoes on it and drop it in the ocean. Not the Atlantic, not the Pacific -- the Indian. The Atlantic and the Pacific are too close and the little spiders would be able to crawl back home and find me.
A few months ago, I did the deposition of a charming woman who hails from Newfoundland, but now lives here and practices psychiatry at our largeish hospital down the road. Aside from the fact that she spoke at 650 words a minute in a heavy Newfoundlander accent and I had a splitting headache the day I did her deposition, I loved her. She was the first "normal" psychiatrist-person I've ever met. At least I think so.
But during a break she was telling us a story (that she held up her hand and swore was "the God's-honest truth and not an urban myth") about a woman she once had in da hospital, dere, who was severely psychotic, eh? The woman barred the door and would not let the hospital people in the room. They would have to break down her barriers in order to get in when she was asleep. The woman kept saying that spiders were crawling all.over.her.room. The doctors kept saying, "Increase her lithium. She's completely batshit." (psychiatrists and pathologists, I have found, have absolutely no compunction about using non-p.c. terms)
Then one day an orderly got through the lady's room barrier and was standing at the end of the bed, tending to her. He looked up on the wall behind her bed and saw the biggest nest of spiders he had ever seen in his life, all crawling down the wall.
Send lithium. I'm completely batshit.
And now I'm even farther behind in my work than I was before. And this morning I have to torture my poor little Vincent by denying him breakfast. Good thing he's fairly feeble right now. Otherwise, he'd probably eat my leg on the way to the ultrasound. Excuse me, I have to get back to vacuuming my air.