Monday, April 19, 2010

Dear Deceased Spider in my Shower:

I was dismayed to discover you there in the morning.

Your significant size signaled a sigh of relief on my part (because I would have been in quite a quandary if you had been still alive - I would have preferred to place you outside, but squeamishness and doubt about your degree of deadly or debilitating poison may have overridden my altruistic intent and made me secure a solid shoe in my grasp instead...)

You took a simple stroll with your eight furry legs sometime during the night down into the tub, never to climb out again.

I was surprised and saddened to see you, empty of a little spider soul, in that curled-leg perplexing and peculiar posture that is prevalent and particular to arachnid deaths.

Then I irreverently conducted a photo shoot, since you were so huge and I  knew I'd blog about you. Consider it a memorial.

I'll utilize a broom and dustpan to deliver you to a green and grassy grave today (in the front bushes).

Now, that is, that four days have passed and I am completely and confidently convinced that you are, actually, dead.

(don't judge me. I use another shower anyway.)

Happy Monday!

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