I don't feel good. I can't seem to wake up enough. There is no energy.
I'm rather worried.
Beside the throne on the wainscoting is a little bitty spider. Tiny, about maybe 2 centimeters, maybe eighth of an inch. Little black body with red legs. So thin, they can barely be seen,
I did not freak.
I remained calm and said directly to it, "You'd better leave here. I'll let you off this time, but if you are still there when I get back, you're dead."
Nothing against spiders, not really, but they are rather disconcerting about 7 inches away from one's face in this very private moment.
Hours later, upon returning to the powder room, the bloody spider did not listen to me, did not take my warning threat. It is still there, some 7 inches from my face.
I had warned it. I had done my best, in my calmest quiet tone, to let it know its future if it remained where it was. Wiggling it's little red arms at me...sneering...batting its little multiple eyes at me as I heaved a heavy sigh, grabbed a couple sheets of TP and swiftly eradicated the disgusting spider from the wall.
The TP wad got tossed into the bowl. I didn't look down, somewhat ashamed of myself for killing nature. Flushed away. Threat carried out: I am a woman of my word.
A bit later, I returned to the scene and needed to do what I had to do.
It hit me then that I had not truly seen the itty bitty spider's demise. What if it hadn't died? What if it had survived and somehow with its spidery red legs, it had crawled out of the bowl and was right now about to leap onto my humanity?
Oh, Lord, I can't go potty in there!!!