I couldn’t tell you when she moved in. We noticed her outside the bathroom window a month or so ago. She’s enormous, for this part of the world. And at night, her body glows red in the reflected light and the marks on her “cat’s face” look especially menacing.
So, of course, I got the hell out of there and
demanded let Mike investigate. Because, you know, if she were to jump through the screen and attach herself to his face, I would be much calmer and more able to assist than if our places were reversed.
Yes, that’s right. My husband’s best interests are front and centre in my mind at all times.
Mr. Knight in Shining Armour found a few images of our houseguest on Google, and confirmed that she is completely harmless and not at all likely to spring at the unsuspecting and chew their faces off. Which I was never actually worried about. I mean, as IF!
She’s kind of beautiful, really. When I go out to turn the compost and send a cloud of live game her way, we regard each other quietly. She’s courteous enough to wait until I’ve left her to settle in for supper. I’ve made plain to the crew that her webs are off limits. We talk about how she keeps us safe from mosquito bites and does such pretty weaving.
I lost some time, the other night, just watching her work. She hangs back quietly until the worst of the day’s damage is done, and then she carefully, methodically goes about the business of straightening up. So much fixing, cleaning, righting to do. It never ends, does it? So much to do that a brief vacation to the corner of the window well was the extent of her summer holiday. I mean, it’s not like all the work at home just magically gets done while you’re away, right?
Her quiet method speaks to me. It gets crazy out there. With the wind, the rain, the lacrosse balls, the carrot stalks, and the crashing chaos of proximate children whirling all around. And then, when it gets dark, and the kids are winding down, and evidence of their messy, joyful disregard lies everywhere…. Repairs are made. Quietly. Methodically.
We have something in common, she and I. Though, I think her work is far more elegant.