...And we are poor players, I think my play is called Arachnophobia.
Seriously. I checked the shower before getting in today, but there somehow was a spider on the ceiling by the time I'd shampoo'd my hair. And then Achilles caught another one
near the doorway. And then, I found a teeny tiny one by the sink. And you know what they say about baby spiders, right? Today there's a baby spider by the sink...
...but there's also about a million more baby spiders eating the dessicated corpse of their mama spider somewhere nearby.
I washed it down the drain, but I am always so creeped out to do that. Does anybody remember that Night Gallery
episode where the woman keeps washing the spider down the drain and it keeps coming back, bigger and bigger, until it's finally the size of the whole room? Yeah, I know. Even as a child watching this, I thought "Why doesn't she just get a shoe and smash it? I'd like to see it come back from that."
But anyway. I know--logically
--that can't really happen, but that's always there in the back of my mind, every time I wash a spider down the drain. (Damn you, Rod Serling.)
They're all coming from the space between the walls, I'm sure. This is why you should never have a pocket door in your house, no matter how cool you think it is. Because that pocket, dear heart, is actually just the space in between the walls. And that space is spiderlicious