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Letter to a Spider

Dear Spider,

I don't mean to be rude, but are you the large brown one that I saw above the kitchen window last week, or the black one that James shooed out of the bed a few nights ago? Not really sure what the proper way to address you is, but I don't want to offend. The thing is, twice this week I've woken up to spider bites on my body. One was on my leg, today's is on my arm. The leg one didn't bother me so much but this new one is on the underside of my arm and it stings every time is brushes up against anything or I flex the muscle. Which is, basically, every time I move my right arm. And I do so a lot, you know? It's my right arm!

Now, I suppose I can't prove these are spider bites. But two little side-by-side fang marks would lead any reasonably intelligent person to a similar conclusion. It's either from a spider or the tiniest, laziest vampire in the world. But regardless of which of these spiders you are, this is really not cool. Either James or myself saw you and decided to just let you be. I guess it's pretty absurd to want credit for not having crushed the life out of you. I don't murder people every day and I don't think I deserve special award. Truth is though, a lot of people would have killed you, for no other crime than having been a spider in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

But I do like you, spider. (Or I did, before you 
started attacking me in my sleep for no apparent reason.) There are a lot of annoying, pesky bugs that bite me repeatedly, in broad daylight or crawl across my shoulders like they own the place. They draw blood and spread disease. And even them, I'd rather not harm. By some wonderful coincidence you eat those bugs and thusly absolve me of any guilt while you dispatch of the bastards. In return, I let spiders live and build elaborate structures in my home, unnoticed and unmolested, provided they do so in a location that's generally out of the way. Wall and ceiling corners, behind and under furniture, inside or around light fixtures - these are all fair game. 

But now, spider, you're rescinding on the deal. Not cool! Sure, maybe I don't deserve a medel for not destroying you, but the fact of the matter is I could. I'm way bigger and (for only that reason) way stronger and far enough removed emotionally that it wouldn't affect the rest of my day whatsoever to slap you with a rolled up copy of Time Out New York. Ignoring the fact that you're just being impolite, you're being downright stupid from a survivalist standpoint. I'm not going to go downstairs and punch my landlady in the face while she's napping, (imagine if my landlady was also 50 feet tall and this analogy works better) so...could you, like, STOP BITING ME?

Thank you in advance for your compliance.

Yours Sincerely,
Danyell Read more: http://www.blogdoctor.me/2007/02/expandable-post-summaries.html#ixzz1Ygp5vxLJ

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