Saturday, September 16, 2006
I have a situation. Please. Hop a plane and take care of this for me.
I innocently opened my mailbox this week, when this spider jumped on his back legs, and yelled "Rahhhrrrrrr!" Then he just stood there, laughing while I screamed. Stood there...
on a letter...
from my son!
If it had been bills, or more applications to get 0% credit cards, I would have just closed the mailbox back up and made a run for it.
By the time I fished my camera out of my purse, he'd retreated to the back of his new quarters. Still. I stood there, thinking about This story from Dogbait. If you go on to read his comments, he explains exactly how it is that these Arachnids run up his arm or down his head and neck. "Pretend for a moment you are a meter reader," he says.
Oh yeah, I got that scenario down, in my mind: I'd just give my letter a little scoot out the door, and that spider would scream Gotcha!!! And run up my arm. And, of course, down my collar.
And there I'd be.
Naked in the street.
Worse yet, when I went to get my mail yesterday, there was a stack of mail waiting for me.
But no spider.
Wiley bastard. I knew full well he was laying in wait between the junkmails.
So, what has every other day been a mindless procedure, is now quite involved.
Find a stick.
Open the mailbox door. With the stick, of course. Then stand back!
Reach that stick in there, and Quick! Drag all of the mail out, right onto the street.
Hop around and squeal a bit, just in case the spider comes charging at you.
Triple check that the spider hasn't, thus far, ended up on the end of your stick, or anywhere on your person, and then use that stick to separate and flip over each piece of mail, still lying in the street.
Pick up each piece after it's cleared the spider security check.
Tickets are on me, Dogbait; I can't go on like this forever.