If you think about it from the point of view of the spiders, they were here first. So technically, this apartment might belong to them.
However, I like to think about it from my point of view. Which is that I hate them and want them to die.
My dad always says that “possession is 9/10ths of the law.” And maybe he’s right.
So, here’s the deal, spiders: I don’t care if you were here first. We’re here now. All our stuff is here, and you know what, we’re the ones that are paying to live here. That means it’s time for you to go, okay?
The other night Wyatt and I were lying in bed and he decided that he wanted to lay on top of the quilt (it’s really a long story and could warrant a whole separate post, so you’ll just have to go with me here) and cover up with the blanket that we kept at the foot of the bed. He grabs it and pulls it on top of him, and I, always alert, say, “you know, you should have checked that for spiders…”
He pauses, thinking, then says, “Eh, too late.”
To which I say, “uh uh, I’m in the bed too, you need to check it. Now please.”
So he gets up and shakes it out, and we don’t see anything. Coast is clear.
And then I sit up in bed a few minutes later, and in the dark shadows, see a little black spot moving quickly around on top of the quilt.
There’s a spider in the bed!
So he gets up and turns on the light and kills the little one…and then looks down and says, “Whoa…”
Which is my cue to start freaking out.
Because there’s a much bigger spider crawling around on the floor. Oh jees.
I don’t think the spiders understand the rule about possession.