I started writing my STORY. In the dusty recesses of the home study 2 nights ago, I began what will in the future be known as the word on everybody's lips.
I'm dreaming big.
No, I will not divulge the name, the story, the characters or even the theme. Only a few people close to me know the minor details of my overall plan, and they won't even be able to read it until I'm happy with the final product.
I was all antsy the other night. I felt such anxious anticipation, of what is happening and what is to come.
You can definitely tell the difference between work and passion. That is the biggest lesson I have been fortunate to come across this last while. You cannot teach passion, force passion. You can only let it move through you, emerging from the depths of your core, pushing out of you and into the world for all to see.
I can't wait. :-D
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
(Shhhhhhh.... don't let them hear us......)
I have to write this very quickly and quietly, just as I have to then post it on my blog and forget about it as soon as it's up there.
I can't attract more of it, in the cycle of Karma, you see. Hence my deliberate attempt at trying to forget it, by not focusing on it. By focusing on not focusing on it. See the paradox?
I am amazed at the lack of (big breath)... spiders, rather, Huntsmen in our house at the moment. This time last year the house was in the midst of a full on war, raging between me with my Uma Thurman style war paint, vs the 8-legged disgusting hairy insects that apparently hunt, like men.
Shudder.
It may have just been a bad season.
Or, In all my killing and spraying, sobbing and crying, (and waking up Hubbie to do my dirty work), we may have rid ourselves of all of them last summer.
Or, the fact that Hubbie has sprayed the exterior of our house twice this summer, may be keeping them out and away.
I don't know, but just between you and me, I am soooo relieved. Whatever reason I should attribute their absence to, I just don't want to know about them. I just felt a need to inform of my current (and hopefully prolonged FOREVER) spider-free existence :)
However, oddly enough, there has been a spate of cockroaches lately. It seems that after going through the winter millipedes, then the summer huntsmen, now the cockroaches have jumped on board to say "Yay! yay! Let's annoy Miss S!"
(That's why we must be quiet when talking about them. Because when they know I'm aware of them, more of them come.)
Shhhhhh. Back to it. You never read this.
I can't attract more of it, in the cycle of Karma, you see. Hence my deliberate attempt at trying to forget it, by not focusing on it. By focusing on not focusing on it. See the paradox?
I am amazed at the lack of (big breath)... spiders, rather, Huntsmen in our house at the moment. This time last year the house was in the midst of a full on war, raging between me with my Uma Thurman style war paint, vs the 8-legged disgusting hairy insects that apparently hunt, like men.
Shudder.
It may have just been a bad season.
Or, In all my killing and spraying, sobbing and crying, (and waking up Hubbie to do my dirty work), we may have rid ourselves of all of them last summer.
Or, the fact that Hubbie has sprayed the exterior of our house twice this summer, may be keeping them out and away.
I don't know, but just between you and me, I am soooo relieved. Whatever reason I should attribute their absence to, I just don't want to know about them. I just felt a need to inform of my current (and hopefully prolonged FOREVER) spider-free existence :)
However, oddly enough, there has been a spate of cockroaches lately. It seems that after going through the winter millipedes, then the summer huntsmen, now the cockroaches have jumped on board to say "Yay! yay! Let's annoy Miss S!"
(That's why we must be quiet when talking about them. Because when they know I'm aware of them, more of them come.)
Shhhhhh. Back to it. You never read this.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The spiders have broken me
Back in my "Bubble and Squeak" post, I sort of gave you a scrambled up version of what had been happening in my life recently. Shortly after that, I remembered that I'd had a huge thing happen, that had absolutely, positively, FREAKED ME OUT. But, I decided that rather than update my post, or mention anything about my freak out, I would pretend nothing had ever happened, therefore ignoring the incident in order to hopefully not attract anything like that again. A la The Secret.
Well, something happened over a week ago, and in a similar although totally more freakish incident earlier this week, and I just can't contain the truth any longer. I must verbalise my fear.
The spiders. Huntsmen. They're baaaaaacccckkkkk.
I need to update you on what happened last time to freak me out so much. I should try and give an edited version of the incident in question, but I don't know if I can. I'll try.
About a month ago now, I was driving into work on a mild-to-developing-hot morning. As I got closer to the city, I remember thinking to myself, "should I open the windows?" I decided against it, and also half forgot. I guess at the time the heavy wind outside put me off.
When I was about 5 minutes away from work, stationary in traffic before some red lights, all of a sudden, something appeared to drop on my car bonnet in front of me.
I stopped and stared. I stared and stared at the object, frozen. Uncertain. Was that a spider?
Surely enough the huntsman scurried along the bonnet to one side. Just thinking of it now makes me shudder.
I was quietly freaking out. Here I was, driving to work, and a huntsman had just apparently dropped from the sky onto my car. Thinking back, I believe I was under a tree when it appeared, so it may have fallen from there.
It started crawling, towards the windscreen, to one side and to the next. I didn't know what to do. I was trying to drive, and getting totally sidetracked by this disgusting THING. I suddenly recalled my decision against opening my window, and thanked God I hadn't, or else it may have come inside my car. With my bad luck that could have happened, and I totally would have had a car accident. I would have gone mental.
I considered putting on my windscreen wipers when it crawled towards the window, however I was worried I would splatter it and have to look at a dead mangled spider for the next 5 minutes, which equally would have grossed me out. However in hindsight, I should have opted for that path. My other concern was that I would fling it, and then not know if it was still on the car. As warped as the logic sounds, at least if it's on the car, I'm certain of it, whereas not knowing it is there, and it IS, I would too easily be careless and then get a heart attack when it decided to reappear again.
So, I drove to the regular car park I go too, and the spider had decided to disappear along the bottom of the wipers. It was as if it was mocking me against my decision to initally use them.
As I approached the small booth that park-ees pay at before proceeding to park, I already had a little plan. D-man, the parking attendant who I see practically every day, was there. I left my window up, and proceeded to attempt sign language for the first time in my life.
"Is there a spider up there?" I yelled through the closed window, simultaneously pointing upwards and imitating a spiders crawl.
He looked confused. Perhaps because I was communicating through a closed window.
"Spider!!! Up there?!" I called louder.
D-man still looked puzzled.
I opened the window an inch. "Is there a spider up there? It was crawling and now it's gone and I'm really scared...."
"No, no, no spider."
"Sure?"
"Yes I'm sure I can't see anything."
I reluctantly, yet quickly opened the window and paid him, not only because I was scared the spider would re-appear but I had a line of cars building up behind me also wanting to get in.
"You scared of spiders?" D-man asked. He had a cheeky grin.
"Yeah, I just don't like them."
"It's ok I understand, my girlfriend is the same. No spiders there, don't worry."
I quickly closed my window, and went to park my car. As soon as I was all parked, and ready to go with my bags, I took a deep breath.
I had to get out of the car, but at the same time, I didn't know where on the car this spider was. My intense fear was that it would somehow fall on me as I climbed out, and the thought of that sent me into a huge desperation and panic.
I decided to sort of push my drivers door open, and then scoot over as close as possible to the passengers side, while still craning my neck towards the open door to try see if there was anything near my drivers side. I was practically sitting on the parking brake. I was there, peering over towards the car door opening, when I saw it.
Shudder.
This is very hard for me, just picturing it is totally freaking me out. I remember my fear and emotional pain and I'm doing it for the blog, so I hope one day someone appreciates it.
Ok, continuing.
The spider was crawling along the drivers side door, up the window. I freaked out, and practically jumped out the passengers side, all my bags in tow. To be honest, I actually have no recollection of jumping out of the car, or how I got over the parking brake and middle-car-bit (excuse my car lingo), that's how freaked out I was. I quickly ran to the drivers side, because I absolutely HAD to know where the spider was. If I lost sight of it, I would never know where it was, and that lack of knowledge would make me lose my mind.
It was now crawling right above the drivers door opening, rather than on the open door. It was in such an awkward position, that I didn't know if closing my door would kill it, force it out, or God forbid, enclose it in the car.
I think I stared at the spider for about 5 minutes, trying to work out what to do. I went to the passenger side and tried to look at where it was through the window. I looked around. I called a fellow work colleague, who we'll call Densley, who I was hoping was on his way to park at the very same car park as I was at. He didn't answer. I would've gotten D-man involved, only he was at his busiest time, with all cars coming in during the morning peak hour.
Before I could think much more, or decide on a plan of action, the spider dropped. It just disappeared. I didn't see where it went, it didn't look like it was on the ground or under the car. It simply dropped, and with it went my stomach.
There was nothing else to do, so I gingerly stepped towards the open drivers door and gently pushed it closed. My light push meant the car door didn't close fully, but that didn't worry me at that point.
At this point it was 9am. I had gotten there before quarter to nine.
As I trudged up towards the attendants booth, D-man saw me. "Where is the spider?" he asked smiling.
"I think it's in my car! I'm so scared, I don't know what to do."
"If you like, give me your keys, and when I have a bit more time, I will check it for you," he offered.
"Thank you." I was hoping he was gonna say that. I just didn't know what to do at that point.
As I trudged towards work, a deepening sense of dread seemed to sink further into me. I realised, that if D-man didn't find the spider, there was absolutely, positively, NO WAY I was driving home that day. The chance of a spider being in the car was too much to bare. I couldn't do it. It had to be killed, and I was beginning to realise that I had to see it get killed. There was no other way to guarantee my sanity and sense of certainty.
As I got to work, I was feeling so helpless, and I don't deal with not being in control of a situation too well. That day was another musical chairs day, I could see as I walked in, as my usual spot was being occupied by someone else, and rather I was going to have the spot next to Kitty. Usually I'd get a bit cranky and possessive about not being in my own spot (because I'm fully anal and have OCD) but today I just didn't care.
As I put my bags down, Kitty started to talk to me about some work of mine she had followed up on. She was chatting and going on and on, and I was just staring at her blankly, adding a monotonous "yeah" every so often.
Then I just said it. There was a slight lull in the conversation, and I went "Kitty, I don't know what to do, there's a big spider and I think it's in my car, and I don't know what to do."
A huge deepening sense of sadness washed over me and my throat tightened. I can't remember her reply. I'm sure it was something comforting.
Again I spoke, this time, my words were FLOODED with emotion. "Kitty, I actually CAN'T drive home if I don't see it dead. I just can't. I'm seriously freaking out." The tightness in my throat gave way to a huge ball that I just couldn't swallow, and tears welled in my eyes. My chin was going to start to quiver, I could feel it.
"I'm sorry, I have to gather myself," I said as I practically ran off. As I ran, hand over half my face, I happened past Densley, who in that moment, had seen that he'd missed my call, and also that I was apparently running off crying.
I was in the kitchen, trying to pull myself together, when I realised the most private place was the bathroom. So again off I ran. When I walked in, another woman was already in there, a newbie who had just recently joined our wider department. I mumbled a hello and stumbled into the cubicle.
Guess what? My parusesis was all GONE as I deliberately made myself go, knowing that just sitting in the cubicle would spark some curiosity in the newbie woman. She didn't have to know why I was traumatised, and I already felt totally stupid for crying over a freaking spider. However it seemed Kitty had other plans.
I heard the door open. "Miss S?" Kitty called.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the spider ok? Densley has a vaccuum and he's going to vaccuum it out for you."
"I feel like such a dickhead Kitty."
"Don't worry Miss S he'll get it out."
As I walked out of the cubicle Kitty was already gone. Leaving the newbie, who had heard our discussion, unless she was selectively deaf.
"You're gonna think of me as the bug woman," I started with her. This statement came because of ANOTHER incident (I just attract incidents don't I?) that had occurred a couple weeks before that, where as a group of us went on a break, before opening the door that exits our department, which is also next to the door which leads to the bathroom, as we walked, a moth flew up from the corner, making me scream, the 2 girls with me scream and also funnily enough Densley scream. It was the screaming moth-effect, so to speak, And as this happened newbie woman had walked out of the bathroom ,witnessing our scream fest due to random moth.
So, now in the bathroom, I told her about the spider in my car. And you know what, she was so nice. She's become one of my fave people at work now. She was really comforting, adding that she had once left her car in mid-traffic because of a spider in her car. I felt so much better hearing that. Apparently I wasn't the only freak-spider-incident-attracting person.
I walked out, all regrouped and breathing normal again, and there was Densley, with a mini vaccuum in hand. I felt really touched, yet really stupid for reacting the way I had, especially at work. He on the otherhand, had thought I'd been in a car accident or something, what with the missed call and running off crying, and he'd felt really bad. He'd gotten the vaccuum from someone's work drawer, and now we were ready to do some damage.
Off we went, me in the background looping with "I feel like such a dickhead, really I do. Thank you so much for this...."
D-man thought we were hilarious as he handed me my keys back at the car park. He'd been busy and hadn't had a chance to check on the demon spider. And so we walked to my car. There still reminding me of my horrendous episode was the drivers door, still partly not-quite-closed.
Densley started opening up doors, as I explained where I'd last seen the spider, and watched from a good safe few metres away what was unfolding. He opened the drivers door, then the passengers door, looking inside and around the door every time. I was near the passengers side, when he opened the rear drivers side door.
"It's here, I've got it," was what he said. I couldn't see (I was practically cowering) but he tried to suck it up with the vaccuum.
And then it started to scurry. (Ugh, shudder). It started to run over the car roof and we whipped into action, slamming doors closed so that it couldn't get into the car. As it wondered where to go, Densley at this point said "it's only a baby."
Sorry, a baby? Only a baby? Well if that's a baby I'd like to see what you call a fully grown huntsman. Yuck.
Densley tried to suck it up with the vaccuum, several times, but somehow, and this is the point that confused me, it 'fell' off the car. I say this because at the time Densley said it fell down, and although I felt utterly disappointed because it offered no conclusion for me, he assured me it wasn't in the car. I consoled myself, thinking, 'even if it's on the bottom of the car, it can't get inside.' He seemed to me to be speaking very vaguely, and so I felt somewhat consoled yet still confused.
I felt exhausted getting back to work. I'd just gone through an emotional train wreck, and I wasn't even sure if I was out of the tunnel yet. Upstairs at work having a tea break with my buddies, I stared at my mug of tea, constantly envisaging the demon spider to suddenly appear, crawling out of my tea like something out of a horror movie.
At the end of my shift that day Densley offered to walk me to my car, and check out the interior so that I could drive home feeling more secure. He was hanging back at work for a work function, and I had to run off, meet Hubbie and leave for Mr Wine's uni graduation party that he was having at his place that night.
Densley was awesome. He lifted everything that could be lifted, checked out every nook and cranny in my car, very thoroughly, constantly reassuring me that it couldn't get in the car, IF it was on the car. It was sometime at this point that he said the spider has actually fallen on the ground, in which case he strongly believed it would have crawled off into the adjoining bushes, rather than hang around. I really hoped he was right, also really glad to know he'd seen it fall on the ground. I was so annoying, I asked him to confirm that fact for me, oh, about 6, 7 times.
Nontheless, I drove home, with the windows UP, in the warm car, constantly looking around me.
Hubbie was conveniently outside when I got home, so I sign languaged to him to check for spiders on the roof of the car. Once again my sign language proved futile, and he looked confused despite me yelling through the window, so I tentatively opened the door and quicky explained before I got out.
That night at the party, I told Red everything. I had a good laugh with her about it, we acted slightly like hysterical women do when it comes to spiders, and she told me that yes, that was quite a story. Vaccuum and all.
And so, as the great night ended, and it came close to midnight, Hubbie and I wondered off home. We both had work the next day, and had to get a move on. Being dark outside, my somewhat relaxed disposition in joking about my ordeal to Red had now transgressed to a paranoid cautiousness. In the car we got, and I began to drive, again constantly looking around me through the windows.
We had been driving all but 5 minutes. Not even. I took a path home via some back streets, however they were sort of commonly used back streets. This time of night wasn't too busy though.
I looked at my drivers mirror, and in it I could see the rear window, enveloped by the black night surrounding it. No cars were behind me, so only occasionally was the window lit up by passing streetlamps.
Then I saw something. Weird.
"Is that birdshit?" I asked Hubbie, confused, still driving yet staring at the reflection in my mirror. It looked like odd, random lines across the window, and when I thought about it I could've sworn no birdshit had been there during the day...
Hubbie turned around towards the rear window to look. He didn't say a thing. And in that moment, I knew.
I just pulled over. I barely could, being in the narrow back streets and all, but without looking I stopped the car, then put my indicator on. I was lucky there'd been no one behind me. I looked behind me at the window, and the freaking spider, IT was very quickly scurrying across the window.
"Quick!" I screamed. "Get it, get it!"
Hubbie and I have an unspoken agreement. I give him much love and happiness. He kills any bug I request. It's an agreement that works very well for us. It's never a question of WHO will get rid of any weird thing that comes MY way. He knows his job, his duty to protect me. And he does it well.
"Close the door!" I screeched. Hubbie slammed the door behind him, and I turned around to see the spider scurrying around to the rear passengers window, right where Hubbie was in front of. It was fast.
"Where is it?" he called out from the darkness.
"There!" I screamed wildly, pointing to the rear window in front of him.
He paused. Saw the spider. And went "Faaaaarrrrrrrr."
In a matter of 5 seconds, he took off his shoe, and BANG! Off the window the spider went. To spider heaven.
Meanwhile, about 3 cars had piled up behind me, unable to overtake because of the oncoming traffic. I wondered if the sight of Hubbie with one shoe, other shoe in hand bashing a spider, at 11.30pm in a little back street, would seem weird. I knew if any men in those cars had partners, that it would most likely be a natural occurence for them.
Hubbie came back to the car, and once again, as I'd done with Densley, I bombarded him with the same 2 types of questions about 8 times:
"Is it dead?"
"Yes."
"Was it on the car or on the ground?"
"It was on the ground."
"Are you sure it's not still on your shoe?"
"No I checked it's outside."
"So it's definitely dead?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure it was on the ground, like dead? It couldn't have gotten away."
"No, I got it Miss S."
"And I just have to make sure, it's not still on your shoe? I can't have it in my car Hubbie...."
And so this conversation was repeated, perhaps another 3 times on the short 10 minute drive home.
Boy, had I had a day. What a spider saga. Now it was uncertain to me whether or not the spider that had 'reappeared ' that night on the drive home was the same spider hat had been on my car that morning. I say that because Mr Wine lives in the same area Hubbie used to live, and that area is abundant to THOSE kinds of spiders, as I've had one come to live on my car for a couple of weeks because of parking under a tree there before we were married.
That, combined with hearing a few days later that my bestie Red had gotten a similar surprise of her own, FINDING a yuck spider IN HER CAR, after parking at her man's house, makes me think that it may indeed have been a new spider on my car that night, if even Red got one later on. But, it's too much of a coincidence for me to think that I had a spider on my car that morning, and then another one that night.
I'm calling the morning spider the terminator spider in my spider saga. It came back with a vengeance. It stayed on my car and reappeared to horrify me (yes I know that's not a real word, is it?). And in true terminator style, after its demise, all that remained of its existence was a lone spider leg hanging off my window, like the broken limb rattling on the back of the car in T2. Shudder.
Story 2: (yes my nightmare continues)
About 2 weeks ago I've come home from work to some good news from Hubbie: he has sprayed the entire exterior of the house with insect spray. I was rapt, because with the ascending Spring/Summer weather, I knew there'd be trouble, and I wanted to get the house 'protected' before any incidents occurred.
All was good, all was fine. 'Til that night.
In bed, Hubbie had his eyes closed next to me. I was reading one of my books, and as I went to turn the page, something caught my eye, above me. I looked up.
A freaking, massive, disgusting huntsman (shudder) was in the top corner of our room, above the doorway, near the air con vent. (And as I write, from bed, I can't help but look up and check that the coast is clear).
I don't know if I cried out, or poked Hubbie, but he opened his eyes, and I just pointed to the ceiling.
Once again - "Faaaaarrrrrrr."
At first he didn't know what he was going to try kill it with, 'til I handed him my slipper. I jumped out of bed and stood near the window, as far away from the impending murder scene as possible. As he got closer, the spider scurried closer to the vent. This was very worrysome. We assume that's where it came from, and we didn't want it going back to its hiding spot. Hubbie was now on a mission, he had to get it, before it got away.
From what he said (because I just couldn't look), IT was quick. It took a few thumps, Hubbie jumping towards the ceiling and all, but he got it, leaving a beautiful mess behind. Far out. On the same freaking day Hubbie had acted to repell the house of insects, the biggest and baddest of them all appears, IN OUR BEDROOM of all places. And that's not it. Guess what my big mouth said right after, if only to make things worse:
"Far out. Imagine I wasn't reading, and we had the lights off. We wouldn't have known it was here."
As I said the words, I stopped, frozen. Yes, imagine that horrific scenario. Unknown to us, that thing crawling around the walls of our bedroom around us. And to think, what other times, when the lights were off, was something crawling around in our beddroom....???
I'd actually shot myself in the foot with that comment, that observation. In that moment I was more than terrified, I was petrified, MORTIFIED. It took some coaxing from Hubbie to make me turn my lamp light off, and even then, I edged myself as close as possible to him as we lay there, despite the too-warm night. My eyes frantically searched the walls around me in the darkness, as my eyes grew more and more adjusted to the night. That night, I had constant dreams of crawling huntsmen, and I had such an interrupted nights sleep, waking at least 5 times, each time searching the walls around me with paranoid eyes.
I felt I had lost control.
Why was this happening to me? No, not the spiders as much. I was well aware that by thinking of spiders, even though in fear, I was still attracting their presence to me. Which is hard to avoid when you do think of them in fear. But more, I didn't understand when I had grown sooooooo fearful.
I thought of my entire life history and association with spiders. In my 3rd birthday video, little Miss S says to the camera "spider, yuck," after cutesy-coaxing from my parents in my thoughts of them. This may have come about because of my sisters intense phobia of spiders, hence the discussion of them.
Living with my parents, yes they got spiders, but nowhere near as many, or as disgusting as the ones we got here. Over there there was always daddy-long-legs, and little itty-bitty, bullshit jumping spiders. Sure, occasionally there would be a big one. But that's it, occasionally, not EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I thought of last summer. WOW. There had been soooooo many big huntsmen. Hubbie thought I was calling them out to play when he went to bed, with all my stories of chasing them around with the mortein. And yet, despite their appearances, I chased them. I certainly didn't cower into a little corner and cry.
I remembered my last incident of the summer. The biggest grand-daddy of all mega-huge-huntsmen had appeared one Friday night, and it was a horrible experience. I think it was quite possibly the size of my whole hand. I sprayed it, it went behind the fridge, and I actually had to watch it and wait for it to be in spraying range again before I could try kill it. I was waiting with a torch and all. Then it disappeared under the dishwasher. When I noticed a gap above the dishwasher, that could allow the spider to crawl up and into the adjoining section of cupboards, onto my servingware, pots and pans, I lost my shit. There was no way it's mortein-covered body was gonna spoil my dishes. I ran upstairs, trying to wake Hubbie through my intense sobbing, begging him to come downstairs and kill it for me.
When he moved the dishwasher, and saw IT, apparently all-white covered in Mortein gunk, he says it was practically dead already, it was so loaded with my attack spray. And what did he say when he saw it?
"Faaaaarrrrrr."
He freely admits, it's the biggest spider he's seen in our house, I think even to date. And it remains in our spider history of stories, the Grand-Daddy of spiders.
So I think, after last summers intense onslaught of spider after spider coming into our home, concluding with the biggest mother you've ever seen, I actually became broken from all my experiences, and rather than lifting my metaphorical sword in the air and proclaiming "I will destroy you," I've collapsed into a shell of fear, worry and paranoia. I'm not kidding when I say I do automatic scans of the rooms I enter in the house, ESPECIALLY at night. It's driving me crazy.
I must say, despite the whole agony of this post, being all "woe is me, spiders are out to get me," there is a slight positive note I can end with. Since the recent incident of the thing in our bedroom, we haven't had another appearance, of any kind (I'm not including last nights daddy-long-legs, that spider is so not intimidating). Which I'm slightly terrified to admit, knowing after I post this that I'm walking downstairs to put my computer back in the study, and passing room, after room, after room....
Perhaps that one recent incident was that spider just getting out, that is, the house being purged of all insects after Hubbies spray-a-thon. That sort of makes sense. And makes me happy. And able to breathe. And walk in and out of rooms here, a bit easier.
But what happened to me earlier in the week wasn't so breathe-easy on me. Having a tea break at work, early in the morning, listening to a colleague talk about crab fishing or something like that, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, towards my lap.
I looked down, and to my intense shock and horror, a MOTH was sitting in my lap. Ugh, Shudder.
I screamed jumping up, in turn not only giving myself a proper wake-up call, but also enlightening my colleagues around me. My scream really started their day.
Geez. When will these bugs ever learn? I don't like them. STAY AWAY.
Well, something happened over a week ago, and in a similar although totally more freakish incident earlier this week, and I just can't contain the truth any longer. I must verbalise my fear.
The spiders. Huntsmen. They're baaaaaacccckkkkk.
I need to update you on what happened last time to freak me out so much. I should try and give an edited version of the incident in question, but I don't know if I can. I'll try.
About a month ago now, I was driving into work on a mild-to-developing-hot morning. As I got closer to the city, I remember thinking to myself, "should I open the windows?" I decided against it, and also half forgot. I guess at the time the heavy wind outside put me off.
When I was about 5 minutes away from work, stationary in traffic before some red lights, all of a sudden, something appeared to drop on my car bonnet in front of me.
I stopped and stared. I stared and stared at the object, frozen. Uncertain. Was that a spider?
Surely enough the huntsman scurried along the bonnet to one side. Just thinking of it now makes me shudder.
I was quietly freaking out. Here I was, driving to work, and a huntsman had just apparently dropped from the sky onto my car. Thinking back, I believe I was under a tree when it appeared, so it may have fallen from there.
It started crawling, towards the windscreen, to one side and to the next. I didn't know what to do. I was trying to drive, and getting totally sidetracked by this disgusting THING. I suddenly recalled my decision against opening my window, and thanked God I hadn't, or else it may have come inside my car. With my bad luck that could have happened, and I totally would have had a car accident. I would have gone mental.
I considered putting on my windscreen wipers when it crawled towards the window, however I was worried I would splatter it and have to look at a dead mangled spider for the next 5 minutes, which equally would have grossed me out. However in hindsight, I should have opted for that path. My other concern was that I would fling it, and then not know if it was still on the car. As warped as the logic sounds, at least if it's on the car, I'm certain of it, whereas not knowing it is there, and it IS, I would too easily be careless and then get a heart attack when it decided to reappear again.
So, I drove to the regular car park I go too, and the spider had decided to disappear along the bottom of the wipers. It was as if it was mocking me against my decision to initally use them.
As I approached the small booth that park-ees pay at before proceeding to park, I already had a little plan. D-man, the parking attendant who I see practically every day, was there. I left my window up, and proceeded to attempt sign language for the first time in my life.
"Is there a spider up there?" I yelled through the closed window, simultaneously pointing upwards and imitating a spiders crawl.
He looked confused. Perhaps because I was communicating through a closed window.
"Spider!!! Up there?!" I called louder.
D-man still looked puzzled.
I opened the window an inch. "Is there a spider up there? It was crawling and now it's gone and I'm really scared...."
"No, no, no spider."
"Sure?"
"Yes I'm sure I can't see anything."
I reluctantly, yet quickly opened the window and paid him, not only because I was scared the spider would re-appear but I had a line of cars building up behind me also wanting to get in.
"You scared of spiders?" D-man asked. He had a cheeky grin.
"Yeah, I just don't like them."
"It's ok I understand, my girlfriend is the same. No spiders there, don't worry."
I quickly closed my window, and went to park my car. As soon as I was all parked, and ready to go with my bags, I took a deep breath.
I had to get out of the car, but at the same time, I didn't know where on the car this spider was. My intense fear was that it would somehow fall on me as I climbed out, and the thought of that sent me into a huge desperation and panic.
I decided to sort of push my drivers door open, and then scoot over as close as possible to the passengers side, while still craning my neck towards the open door to try see if there was anything near my drivers side. I was practically sitting on the parking brake. I was there, peering over towards the car door opening, when I saw it.
Shudder.
This is very hard for me, just picturing it is totally freaking me out. I remember my fear and emotional pain and I'm doing it for the blog, so I hope one day someone appreciates it.
Ok, continuing.
The spider was crawling along the drivers side door, up the window. I freaked out, and practically jumped out the passengers side, all my bags in tow. To be honest, I actually have no recollection of jumping out of the car, or how I got over the parking brake and middle-car-bit (excuse my car lingo), that's how freaked out I was. I quickly ran to the drivers side, because I absolutely HAD to know where the spider was. If I lost sight of it, I would never know where it was, and that lack of knowledge would make me lose my mind.
It was now crawling right above the drivers door opening, rather than on the open door. It was in such an awkward position, that I didn't know if closing my door would kill it, force it out, or God forbid, enclose it in the car.
I think I stared at the spider for about 5 minutes, trying to work out what to do. I went to the passenger side and tried to look at where it was through the window. I looked around. I called a fellow work colleague, who we'll call Densley, who I was hoping was on his way to park at the very same car park as I was at. He didn't answer. I would've gotten D-man involved, only he was at his busiest time, with all cars coming in during the morning peak hour.
Before I could think much more, or decide on a plan of action, the spider dropped. It just disappeared. I didn't see where it went, it didn't look like it was on the ground or under the car. It simply dropped, and with it went my stomach.
There was nothing else to do, so I gingerly stepped towards the open drivers door and gently pushed it closed. My light push meant the car door didn't close fully, but that didn't worry me at that point.
At this point it was 9am. I had gotten there before quarter to nine.
As I trudged up towards the attendants booth, D-man saw me. "Where is the spider?" he asked smiling.
"I think it's in my car! I'm so scared, I don't know what to do."
"If you like, give me your keys, and when I have a bit more time, I will check it for you," he offered.
"Thank you." I was hoping he was gonna say that. I just didn't know what to do at that point.
As I trudged towards work, a deepening sense of dread seemed to sink further into me. I realised, that if D-man didn't find the spider, there was absolutely, positively, NO WAY I was driving home that day. The chance of a spider being in the car was too much to bare. I couldn't do it. It had to be killed, and I was beginning to realise that I had to see it get killed. There was no other way to guarantee my sanity and sense of certainty.
As I got to work, I was feeling so helpless, and I don't deal with not being in control of a situation too well. That day was another musical chairs day, I could see as I walked in, as my usual spot was being occupied by someone else, and rather I was going to have the spot next to Kitty. Usually I'd get a bit cranky and possessive about not being in my own spot (because I'm fully anal and have OCD) but today I just didn't care.
As I put my bags down, Kitty started to talk to me about some work of mine she had followed up on. She was chatting and going on and on, and I was just staring at her blankly, adding a monotonous "yeah" every so often.
Then I just said it. There was a slight lull in the conversation, and I went "Kitty, I don't know what to do, there's a big spider and I think it's in my car, and I don't know what to do."
A huge deepening sense of sadness washed over me and my throat tightened. I can't remember her reply. I'm sure it was something comforting.
Again I spoke, this time, my words were FLOODED with emotion. "Kitty, I actually CAN'T drive home if I don't see it dead. I just can't. I'm seriously freaking out." The tightness in my throat gave way to a huge ball that I just couldn't swallow, and tears welled in my eyes. My chin was going to start to quiver, I could feel it.
"I'm sorry, I have to gather myself," I said as I practically ran off. As I ran, hand over half my face, I happened past Densley, who in that moment, had seen that he'd missed my call, and also that I was apparently running off crying.
I was in the kitchen, trying to pull myself together, when I realised the most private place was the bathroom. So again off I ran. When I walked in, another woman was already in there, a newbie who had just recently joined our wider department. I mumbled a hello and stumbled into the cubicle.
Guess what? My parusesis was all GONE as I deliberately made myself go, knowing that just sitting in the cubicle would spark some curiosity in the newbie woman. She didn't have to know why I was traumatised, and I already felt totally stupid for crying over a freaking spider. However it seemed Kitty had other plans.
I heard the door open. "Miss S?" Kitty called.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the spider ok? Densley has a vaccuum and he's going to vaccuum it out for you."
"I feel like such a dickhead Kitty."
"Don't worry Miss S he'll get it out."
As I walked out of the cubicle Kitty was already gone. Leaving the newbie, who had heard our discussion, unless she was selectively deaf.
"You're gonna think of me as the bug woman," I started with her. This statement came because of ANOTHER incident (I just attract incidents don't I?) that had occurred a couple weeks before that, where as a group of us went on a break, before opening the door that exits our department, which is also next to the door which leads to the bathroom, as we walked, a moth flew up from the corner, making me scream, the 2 girls with me scream and also funnily enough Densley scream. It was the screaming moth-effect, so to speak, And as this happened newbie woman had walked out of the bathroom ,witnessing our scream fest due to random moth.
So, now in the bathroom, I told her about the spider in my car. And you know what, she was so nice. She's become one of my fave people at work now. She was really comforting, adding that she had once left her car in mid-traffic because of a spider in her car. I felt so much better hearing that. Apparently I wasn't the only freak-spider-incident-attracting person.
I walked out, all regrouped and breathing normal again, and there was Densley, with a mini vaccuum in hand. I felt really touched, yet really stupid for reacting the way I had, especially at work. He on the otherhand, had thought I'd been in a car accident or something, what with the missed call and running off crying, and he'd felt really bad. He'd gotten the vaccuum from someone's work drawer, and now we were ready to do some damage.
Off we went, me in the background looping with "I feel like such a dickhead, really I do. Thank you so much for this...."
D-man thought we were hilarious as he handed me my keys back at the car park. He'd been busy and hadn't had a chance to check on the demon spider. And so we walked to my car. There still reminding me of my horrendous episode was the drivers door, still partly not-quite-closed.
Densley started opening up doors, as I explained where I'd last seen the spider, and watched from a good safe few metres away what was unfolding. He opened the drivers door, then the passengers door, looking inside and around the door every time. I was near the passengers side, when he opened the rear drivers side door.
"It's here, I've got it," was what he said. I couldn't see (I was practically cowering) but he tried to suck it up with the vaccuum.
And then it started to scurry. (Ugh, shudder). It started to run over the car roof and we whipped into action, slamming doors closed so that it couldn't get into the car. As it wondered where to go, Densley at this point said "it's only a baby."
Sorry, a baby? Only a baby? Well if that's a baby I'd like to see what you call a fully grown huntsman. Yuck.
Densley tried to suck it up with the vaccuum, several times, but somehow, and this is the point that confused me, it 'fell' off the car. I say this because at the time Densley said it fell down, and although I felt utterly disappointed because it offered no conclusion for me, he assured me it wasn't in the car. I consoled myself, thinking, 'even if it's on the bottom of the car, it can't get inside.' He seemed to me to be speaking very vaguely, and so I felt somewhat consoled yet still confused.
I felt exhausted getting back to work. I'd just gone through an emotional train wreck, and I wasn't even sure if I was out of the tunnel yet. Upstairs at work having a tea break with my buddies, I stared at my mug of tea, constantly envisaging the demon spider to suddenly appear, crawling out of my tea like something out of a horror movie.
At the end of my shift that day Densley offered to walk me to my car, and check out the interior so that I could drive home feeling more secure. He was hanging back at work for a work function, and I had to run off, meet Hubbie and leave for Mr Wine's uni graduation party that he was having at his place that night.
Densley was awesome. He lifted everything that could be lifted, checked out every nook and cranny in my car, very thoroughly, constantly reassuring me that it couldn't get in the car, IF it was on the car. It was sometime at this point that he said the spider has actually fallen on the ground, in which case he strongly believed it would have crawled off into the adjoining bushes, rather than hang around. I really hoped he was right, also really glad to know he'd seen it fall on the ground. I was so annoying, I asked him to confirm that fact for me, oh, about 6, 7 times.
Nontheless, I drove home, with the windows UP, in the warm car, constantly looking around me.
Hubbie was conveniently outside when I got home, so I sign languaged to him to check for spiders on the roof of the car. Once again my sign language proved futile, and he looked confused despite me yelling through the window, so I tentatively opened the door and quicky explained before I got out.
That night at the party, I told Red everything. I had a good laugh with her about it, we acted slightly like hysterical women do when it comes to spiders, and she told me that yes, that was quite a story. Vaccuum and all.
And so, as the great night ended, and it came close to midnight, Hubbie and I wondered off home. We both had work the next day, and had to get a move on. Being dark outside, my somewhat relaxed disposition in joking about my ordeal to Red had now transgressed to a paranoid cautiousness. In the car we got, and I began to drive, again constantly looking around me through the windows.
We had been driving all but 5 minutes. Not even. I took a path home via some back streets, however they were sort of commonly used back streets. This time of night wasn't too busy though.
I looked at my drivers mirror, and in it I could see the rear window, enveloped by the black night surrounding it. No cars were behind me, so only occasionally was the window lit up by passing streetlamps.
Then I saw something. Weird.
"Is that birdshit?" I asked Hubbie, confused, still driving yet staring at the reflection in my mirror. It looked like odd, random lines across the window, and when I thought about it I could've sworn no birdshit had been there during the day...
Hubbie turned around towards the rear window to look. He didn't say a thing. And in that moment, I knew.
I just pulled over. I barely could, being in the narrow back streets and all, but without looking I stopped the car, then put my indicator on. I was lucky there'd been no one behind me. I looked behind me at the window, and the freaking spider, IT was very quickly scurrying across the window.
"Quick!" I screamed. "Get it, get it!"
Hubbie and I have an unspoken agreement. I give him much love and happiness. He kills any bug I request. It's an agreement that works very well for us. It's never a question of WHO will get rid of any weird thing that comes MY way. He knows his job, his duty to protect me. And he does it well.
"Close the door!" I screeched. Hubbie slammed the door behind him, and I turned around to see the spider scurrying around to the rear passengers window, right where Hubbie was in front of. It was fast.
"Where is it?" he called out from the darkness.
"There!" I screamed wildly, pointing to the rear window in front of him.
He paused. Saw the spider. And went "Faaaaarrrrrrrr."
In a matter of 5 seconds, he took off his shoe, and BANG! Off the window the spider went. To spider heaven.
Meanwhile, about 3 cars had piled up behind me, unable to overtake because of the oncoming traffic. I wondered if the sight of Hubbie with one shoe, other shoe in hand bashing a spider, at 11.30pm in a little back street, would seem weird. I knew if any men in those cars had partners, that it would most likely be a natural occurence for them.
Hubbie came back to the car, and once again, as I'd done with Densley, I bombarded him with the same 2 types of questions about 8 times:
"Is it dead?"
"Yes."
"Was it on the car or on the ground?"
"It was on the ground."
"Are you sure it's not still on your shoe?"
"No I checked it's outside."
"So it's definitely dead?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure it was on the ground, like dead? It couldn't have gotten away."
"No, I got it Miss S."
"And I just have to make sure, it's not still on your shoe? I can't have it in my car Hubbie...."
And so this conversation was repeated, perhaps another 3 times on the short 10 minute drive home.
Boy, had I had a day. What a spider saga. Now it was uncertain to me whether or not the spider that had 'reappeared ' that night on the drive home was the same spider hat had been on my car that morning. I say that because Mr Wine lives in the same area Hubbie used to live, and that area is abundant to THOSE kinds of spiders, as I've had one come to live on my car for a couple of weeks because of parking under a tree there before we were married.
That, combined with hearing a few days later that my bestie Red had gotten a similar surprise of her own, FINDING a yuck spider IN HER CAR, after parking at her man's house, makes me think that it may indeed have been a new spider on my car that night, if even Red got one later on. But, it's too much of a coincidence for me to think that I had a spider on my car that morning, and then another one that night.
I'm calling the morning spider the terminator spider in my spider saga. It came back with a vengeance. It stayed on my car and reappeared to horrify me (yes I know that's not a real word, is it?). And in true terminator style, after its demise, all that remained of its existence was a lone spider leg hanging off my window, like the broken limb rattling on the back of the car in T2. Shudder.
Story 2: (yes my nightmare continues)
About 2 weeks ago I've come home from work to some good news from Hubbie: he has sprayed the entire exterior of the house with insect spray. I was rapt, because with the ascending Spring/Summer weather, I knew there'd be trouble, and I wanted to get the house 'protected' before any incidents occurred.
All was good, all was fine. 'Til that night.
In bed, Hubbie had his eyes closed next to me. I was reading one of my books, and as I went to turn the page, something caught my eye, above me. I looked up.
A freaking, massive, disgusting huntsman (shudder) was in the top corner of our room, above the doorway, near the air con vent. (And as I write, from bed, I can't help but look up and check that the coast is clear).
I don't know if I cried out, or poked Hubbie, but he opened his eyes, and I just pointed to the ceiling.
Once again - "Faaaaarrrrrrr."
At first he didn't know what he was going to try kill it with, 'til I handed him my slipper. I jumped out of bed and stood near the window, as far away from the impending murder scene as possible. As he got closer, the spider scurried closer to the vent. This was very worrysome. We assume that's where it came from, and we didn't want it going back to its hiding spot. Hubbie was now on a mission, he had to get it, before it got away.
From what he said (because I just couldn't look), IT was quick. It took a few thumps, Hubbie jumping towards the ceiling and all, but he got it, leaving a beautiful mess behind. Far out. On the same freaking day Hubbie had acted to repell the house of insects, the biggest and baddest of them all appears, IN OUR BEDROOM of all places. And that's not it. Guess what my big mouth said right after, if only to make things worse:
"Far out. Imagine I wasn't reading, and we had the lights off. We wouldn't have known it was here."
As I said the words, I stopped, frozen. Yes, imagine that horrific scenario. Unknown to us, that thing crawling around the walls of our bedroom around us. And to think, what other times, when the lights were off, was something crawling around in our beddroom....???
I'd actually shot myself in the foot with that comment, that observation. In that moment I was more than terrified, I was petrified, MORTIFIED. It took some coaxing from Hubbie to make me turn my lamp light off, and even then, I edged myself as close as possible to him as we lay there, despite the too-warm night. My eyes frantically searched the walls around me in the darkness, as my eyes grew more and more adjusted to the night. That night, I had constant dreams of crawling huntsmen, and I had such an interrupted nights sleep, waking at least 5 times, each time searching the walls around me with paranoid eyes.
I felt I had lost control.
Why was this happening to me? No, not the spiders as much. I was well aware that by thinking of spiders, even though in fear, I was still attracting their presence to me. Which is hard to avoid when you do think of them in fear. But more, I didn't understand when I had grown sooooooo fearful.
I thought of my entire life history and association with spiders. In my 3rd birthday video, little Miss S says to the camera "spider, yuck," after cutesy-coaxing from my parents in my thoughts of them. This may have come about because of my sisters intense phobia of spiders, hence the discussion of them.
Living with my parents, yes they got spiders, but nowhere near as many, or as disgusting as the ones we got here. Over there there was always daddy-long-legs, and little itty-bitty, bullshit jumping spiders. Sure, occasionally there would be a big one. But that's it, occasionally, not EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I thought of last summer. WOW. There had been soooooo many big huntsmen. Hubbie thought I was calling them out to play when he went to bed, with all my stories of chasing them around with the mortein. And yet, despite their appearances, I chased them. I certainly didn't cower into a little corner and cry.
I remembered my last incident of the summer. The biggest grand-daddy of all mega-huge-huntsmen had appeared one Friday night, and it was a horrible experience. I think it was quite possibly the size of my whole hand. I sprayed it, it went behind the fridge, and I actually had to watch it and wait for it to be in spraying range again before I could try kill it. I was waiting with a torch and all. Then it disappeared under the dishwasher. When I noticed a gap above the dishwasher, that could allow the spider to crawl up and into the adjoining section of cupboards, onto my servingware, pots and pans, I lost my shit. There was no way it's mortein-covered body was gonna spoil my dishes. I ran upstairs, trying to wake Hubbie through my intense sobbing, begging him to come downstairs and kill it for me.
When he moved the dishwasher, and saw IT, apparently all-white covered in Mortein gunk, he says it was practically dead already, it was so loaded with my attack spray. And what did he say when he saw it?
"Faaaaarrrrrr."
He freely admits, it's the biggest spider he's seen in our house, I think even to date. And it remains in our spider history of stories, the Grand-Daddy of spiders.
So I think, after last summers intense onslaught of spider after spider coming into our home, concluding with the biggest mother you've ever seen, I actually became broken from all my experiences, and rather than lifting my metaphorical sword in the air and proclaiming "I will destroy you," I've collapsed into a shell of fear, worry and paranoia. I'm not kidding when I say I do automatic scans of the rooms I enter in the house, ESPECIALLY at night. It's driving me crazy.
I must say, despite the whole agony of this post, being all "woe is me, spiders are out to get me," there is a slight positive note I can end with. Since the recent incident of the thing in our bedroom, we haven't had another appearance, of any kind (I'm not including last nights daddy-long-legs, that spider is so not intimidating). Which I'm slightly terrified to admit, knowing after I post this that I'm walking downstairs to put my computer back in the study, and passing room, after room, after room....
Perhaps that one recent incident was that spider just getting out, that is, the house being purged of all insects after Hubbies spray-a-thon. That sort of makes sense. And makes me happy. And able to breathe. And walk in and out of rooms here, a bit easier.
But what happened to me earlier in the week wasn't so breathe-easy on me. Having a tea break at work, early in the morning, listening to a colleague talk about crab fishing or something like that, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, towards my lap.
I looked down, and to my intense shock and horror, a MOTH was sitting in my lap. Ugh, Shudder.
I screamed jumping up, in turn not only giving myself a proper wake-up call, but also enlightening my colleagues around me. My scream really started their day.
Geez. When will these bugs ever learn? I don't like them. STAY AWAY.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
It's that time again....
I am starting to get excited.
Yes, this is me, getting all into the weather again.
I think the reason that I think, and I talk about the weather so much is due to the fact that it plays a strong part in my emotions and general mood. And no time of year pleases me more than Summer.
Ahhhh. Warm, hot, enveloping Summer.
I can easily handle any heat, because unlike Winter, I don't mind myself sweating and not being able to sleep at night. At least I'm comfortable. And eventually, I do fall asleep (assisted by the air conditioner!)Yet in Winter, I find myself soooo uncomfortable. I find myself in constant states of unpleasantness. Hubbie finds it hilarious the amount of times I've said lately, sadly, like a little child "I'm so cold." The list can go on and on: shivering, tense, cold, wet, wind-swept, freezing, chilly, cold (did I say cold?!)
And so I pondered all this, last night, as I made my way home from work.
Today is the last day of winter. It's turned chilly and gregariously windy outside, as Winter gives its parting farewell to us: "See ya! Here's something to remember me by!"
However, last night was something different all together. An inkling of things to come.
There was something different in the air. As I walked to the car park, I tried to observe it. It wasn't quite cold, yet when the gentle breeze blew through, you could feel it. The air suggested something, hinted at a mild atmosphere that was being subdued by the current month. This struggle between the seasons gave the air a nice, fresh balance. Cold when the wind blew; mild when all was still.
Walking, with the water beckoning and shining from across the road, it almost didn't feel like Winter. It didn't feel like Melbourne. The usual hustle and bustle of peak hour combined with the ravaging winter weather was absent, in its place replaced by a serene, calm atmosphere. Occasional bicyclists rode by, their night lights shining like the beacon of a lighthouse. Cars drove by, however their driving resembled that of a Sunday afternoon: relaxed and leisurely. Tall high-rise buildings and multi-level apartments were littered with the sprinkling of yellow colour, highlighting the warmth and presence made within its walls.
How nice it would have been to be viewing such a spectacular night from way up high.
Although night had descended upon the city, the atmosphere seemed to hang with an air of reluctance.
As the suspicions of Spring started to arrive, so too did the day find it hard to depart. Instead, wavering, waiting, holding on to some breath of hope, that a change was near.
As I drove home, it seemed there were fewer in the city and more people out in the suburbs. Arriving home from school and work yes, but also, lingering, feeling the night air, finding reasons to make their way out. Trying to work out why the night was not so unpleasant, and rather, surprisingly sweet.
We can all feel it in the air. A change is coming.
Yes, this is me, getting all into the weather again.
I think the reason that I think, and I talk about the weather so much is due to the fact that it plays a strong part in my emotions and general mood. And no time of year pleases me more than Summer.
Ahhhh. Warm, hot, enveloping Summer.
I can easily handle any heat, because unlike Winter, I don't mind myself sweating and not being able to sleep at night. At least I'm comfortable. And eventually, I do fall asleep (assisted by the air conditioner!)Yet in Winter, I find myself soooo uncomfortable. I find myself in constant states of unpleasantness. Hubbie finds it hilarious the amount of times I've said lately, sadly, like a little child "I'm so cold." The list can go on and on: shivering, tense, cold, wet, wind-swept, freezing, chilly, cold (did I say cold?!)
And so I pondered all this, last night, as I made my way home from work.
Today is the last day of winter. It's turned chilly and gregariously windy outside, as Winter gives its parting farewell to us: "See ya! Here's something to remember me by!"
However, last night was something different all together. An inkling of things to come.
There was something different in the air. As I walked to the car park, I tried to observe it. It wasn't quite cold, yet when the gentle breeze blew through, you could feel it. The air suggested something, hinted at a mild atmosphere that was being subdued by the current month. This struggle between the seasons gave the air a nice, fresh balance. Cold when the wind blew; mild when all was still.
Walking, with the water beckoning and shining from across the road, it almost didn't feel like Winter. It didn't feel like Melbourne. The usual hustle and bustle of peak hour combined with the ravaging winter weather was absent, in its place replaced by a serene, calm atmosphere. Occasional bicyclists rode by, their night lights shining like the beacon of a lighthouse. Cars drove by, however their driving resembled that of a Sunday afternoon: relaxed and leisurely. Tall high-rise buildings and multi-level apartments were littered with the sprinkling of yellow colour, highlighting the warmth and presence made within its walls.
How nice it would have been to be viewing such a spectacular night from way up high.
Although night had descended upon the city, the atmosphere seemed to hang with an air of reluctance.
As the suspicions of Spring started to arrive, so too did the day find it hard to depart. Instead, wavering, waiting, holding on to some breath of hope, that a change was near.
As I drove home, it seemed there were fewer in the city and more people out in the suburbs. Arriving home from school and work yes, but also, lingering, feeling the night air, finding reasons to make their way out. Trying to work out why the night was not so unpleasant, and rather, surprisingly sweet.
We can all feel it in the air. A change is coming.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Fake Chicken makes me tired and my stomach bloated
Yes these are my sentiments hours after I''ve finished my bought-lunch at work. I should have known better: I was eyeing off that meat in the Thai Chicken sandwich, and I REALLY should have known better than to trust the guy behind the counter. Of COURSE he was going to praise it and say it was the best sandwich since sliced bread was invented. Oh well.
Perhaps it doesn't help that today is a 43 degree day, and every time I step out to have a break from work, I come back in minutes later feeling even MORE tired and deflated, as if the weekend's heat, busy-ness and lack of sleep wasn't enough on it's own.
In reference to some of the stuff I mentioned in my last blogs......
Well on Saturday my bestie Red ended up coming over, just a spur of the moment thing. It was nice and I guess showed me what I needed to see and feel, which is that she cares, irregardless of where she spent her New Years Eve. And there was no mention of her boy being upset at anything I may have said (!) so that was good.
Saw my extended family yesterday, inclusive of talk-too-much cousin AND Legs, closely followed by Fake, as always. It was deflating for me once again to see them together, knowing that everything I've done for Legs over the years, with all the help, assistance and guidance I've provided in all aspects of her life, not to mention the fun and adventures we've had, is overthrown by a meddling cousin who only wants to be her bridesmaid in order to get closer to her fiance/family/every male relative she has.
So, I felt a bit sad, but I take comfort in one thing my mum said, something I truly believe in: the truth will come out in the end. If a person has bad intentions, there is no need to become "justice" and lay the law down on them. The Universe will do that for itself.
I've trusted in the Universe before and it has not failed me. So I need to stay focused and just let things unravel in their own time.
Back to work.
Perhaps it doesn't help that today is a 43 degree day, and every time I step out to have a break from work, I come back in minutes later feeling even MORE tired and deflated, as if the weekend's heat, busy-ness and lack of sleep wasn't enough on it's own.
In reference to some of the stuff I mentioned in my last blogs......
Well on Saturday my bestie Red ended up coming over, just a spur of the moment thing. It was nice and I guess showed me what I needed to see and feel, which is that she cares, irregardless of where she spent her New Years Eve. And there was no mention of her boy being upset at anything I may have said (!) so that was good.
Saw my extended family yesterday, inclusive of talk-too-much cousin AND Legs, closely followed by Fake, as always. It was deflating for me once again to see them together, knowing that everything I've done for Legs over the years, with all the help, assistance and guidance I've provided in all aspects of her life, not to mention the fun and adventures we've had, is overthrown by a meddling cousin who only wants to be her bridesmaid in order to get closer to her fiance/family/every male relative she has.
So, I felt a bit sad, but I take comfort in one thing my mum said, something I truly believe in: the truth will come out in the end. If a person has bad intentions, there is no need to become "justice" and lay the law down on them. The Universe will do that for itself.
I've trusted in the Universe before and it has not failed me. So I need to stay focused and just let things unravel in their own time.
Back to work.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Rain
You know you're in the midst of a drought, when it rains all weekend, and you can't believe it.
When you're leaving home Saturday afternoon, and the rain simply descends. But it doesn't go away like it normally does, no. It just continues, harder and faster, pelting at the car you're in from all directions, until you begin to realise that it isn't going away just yet.
That's when you know you're in a drought.
When you look for parking closer to your destination, just so you can get LESS rained on, rather than totally drenched. When you open up the umbrella when you're still in the car, squirming your way out so to avoid any speck of rain getting on you, even though you know that once you start walking, the rain will give you no mercy. It will attack you from every which direction, and you will be amazed. You will be surprised.
That's when you know you're in the midst of a drought.
When you're walking to the soccer stadium, sharing an umbrella but wishing you each had your own, as your entire right side which is facing the rain starts to soak, and you start to wish you had worn your boots, rather than your open-toed flats. And you ask yourself why it is that last time you wore those flats you were caught in a similar downpour. You begin to question your rain-inspiring shoes. You vow next time to wear those shoes, when the rain is needed.
That's when you know you're in the middle of a drought.
Your shoes get damp, and then are suddenly soaked, through and through, feet and all, as you accidentally step into a puddle when you forgetfully fail to watch your step for a split second. You swear, yell at your umbrella partner, and regretfully begin to accept the rain sloshing through your shoes.
You shake your feet in the air as you walk, trying to get rid of the water, as you try to avoid more puddles, somehow, almost, successfully. You look around and see others around you, running without umbrellas, trying to avoid the inevitable raining crashing down on them, and for a moment you feel good, knowing you are somewhat dry.
Until you step again and the water sloshes around heavily in your flats.
And you ask yourself when was the last time you remember this happening. You can't remember. Other than the time from last week when you wore the same rain-producing flats. There's nothing.
That's when you know you're in the midst of a drought.
When you're on your way back from the soccer, the rain has ceased, but surprisingly, returns with full force once you're in the car, driving back home. This is surprising to you because you dont see rain often. It has become a rare event. You're in a drought.
The following day it rains, on and off. It isn't too severe, but still you're more amazed at the constant determination of the rain than anything else. Not only does it rain, but it comes back. Sudden and swift isn't in its vocabularly, it's a distant cousin of this rain.
That night, as your bed looms at you, yawns approach and everything becomes still, you hear it. The sudden rattling, thunderous pitter-patter that begins on your roof, and in moments envelopes the entire house, all that is around you.
The rain. It has returned. And provided a nice backdrop for sleeping, a kind of musical lullaby, to which you can close your eyes, tune out, and be secure in knowing you are in a good place. You are safe, warm, at home. Tired.
But still you are amazed. Amazed and at awe by this sensation, by this natural phenomenon of water falling from the sky. It falls, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast, in all sorts of directions. It falls and stops, then returns, and sometimes it just doesn't stop. It just varies the speed and direction and force with which it falls.
But all this is so new. Familiar but new, because rain is not a naturally-occuring phenomenon, not where we are anymore. It never comes too often, or stays too long.
That's why we are surprised. We can not believe our luck. The phrase you constantly hear everywhere is "But we need the rain." Perhaps everyone here has said it at least once. That's because we all feel its absence. It comes, dissolves the dryness, returns moisture to the plants, trees, land, animals and the people that so rely on it for survival. It removes the stresses and angers, from our lives. All washes away with rain.
It rejuvenates. It refreshes. But it has been surprising.
We are surprised by its sudden return. Because we are in a drought.
Today is the first day of Summer.
When you're leaving home Saturday afternoon, and the rain simply descends. But it doesn't go away like it normally does, no. It just continues, harder and faster, pelting at the car you're in from all directions, until you begin to realise that it isn't going away just yet.
That's when you know you're in a drought.
When you look for parking closer to your destination, just so you can get LESS rained on, rather than totally drenched. When you open up the umbrella when you're still in the car, squirming your way out so to avoid any speck of rain getting on you, even though you know that once you start walking, the rain will give you no mercy. It will attack you from every which direction, and you will be amazed. You will be surprised.
That's when you know you're in the midst of a drought.
When you're walking to the soccer stadium, sharing an umbrella but wishing you each had your own, as your entire right side which is facing the rain starts to soak, and you start to wish you had worn your boots, rather than your open-toed flats. And you ask yourself why it is that last time you wore those flats you were caught in a similar downpour. You begin to question your rain-inspiring shoes. You vow next time to wear those shoes, when the rain is needed.
That's when you know you're in the middle of a drought.
Your shoes get damp, and then are suddenly soaked, through and through, feet and all, as you accidentally step into a puddle when you forgetfully fail to watch your step for a split second. You swear, yell at your umbrella partner, and regretfully begin to accept the rain sloshing through your shoes.
You shake your feet in the air as you walk, trying to get rid of the water, as you try to avoid more puddles, somehow, almost, successfully. You look around and see others around you, running without umbrellas, trying to avoid the inevitable raining crashing down on them, and for a moment you feel good, knowing you are somewhat dry.
Until you step again and the water sloshes around heavily in your flats.
And you ask yourself when was the last time you remember this happening. You can't remember. Other than the time from last week when you wore the same rain-producing flats. There's nothing.
That's when you know you're in the midst of a drought.
When you're on your way back from the soccer, the rain has ceased, but surprisingly, returns with full force once you're in the car, driving back home. This is surprising to you because you dont see rain often. It has become a rare event. You're in a drought.
The following day it rains, on and off. It isn't too severe, but still you're more amazed at the constant determination of the rain than anything else. Not only does it rain, but it comes back. Sudden and swift isn't in its vocabularly, it's a distant cousin of this rain.
That night, as your bed looms at you, yawns approach and everything becomes still, you hear it. The sudden rattling, thunderous pitter-patter that begins on your roof, and in moments envelopes the entire house, all that is around you.
The rain. It has returned. And provided a nice backdrop for sleeping, a kind of musical lullaby, to which you can close your eyes, tune out, and be secure in knowing you are in a good place. You are safe, warm, at home. Tired.
But still you are amazed. Amazed and at awe by this sensation, by this natural phenomenon of water falling from the sky. It falls, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast, in all sorts of directions. It falls and stops, then returns, and sometimes it just doesn't stop. It just varies the speed and direction and force with which it falls.
But all this is so new. Familiar but new, because rain is not a naturally-occuring phenomenon, not where we are anymore. It never comes too often, or stays too long.
That's why we are surprised. We can not believe our luck. The phrase you constantly hear everywhere is "But we need the rain." Perhaps everyone here has said it at least once. That's because we all feel its absence. It comes, dissolves the dryness, returns moisture to the plants, trees, land, animals and the people that so rely on it for survival. It removes the stresses and angers, from our lives. All washes away with rain.
It rejuvenates. It refreshes. But it has been surprising.
We are surprised by its sudden return. Because we are in a drought.
Today is the first day of Summer.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Spiders and Moths vs. Miss S.
And so it is, the end of the week. And as I look back, the most prominent thing that stands out in my memories are bloody spiders and moths.
The freaking spiders and the freaking moths.
Although it's only Spring, this fair, ridiculously unpredictable city of ours, has experienced some bizarre heat wave in the past week, with temperatures barely dropping under 30 degrees celcius.
With heat like that, there have been some unexpected and unwelcome visitors in our home.
Now, with spiders, although I'm not a total arachnophobe like my sister is, I still don't like them. They totally freak me out, and I don't like them anywhere near me. I can handle them better than my sis though. Hubbie pointed out one of her bizarre talents only a week ago, it's hilarious. She has some sort of freaky spider radar. She can enter a room/area, and within moments determine and pinpoint the location of every creepy crawly, and with a dismissive hand point out to her husband the areas in which he needs to get to work exterminating.
Think Arnie in Terminator 2 scanning for the bad terminator via his radar, however in this instance it's spiders.
LOL it's great to watch.
Anyway, as I was saying, I don't like spiders. But what I have an unnatural phobia of are moths. Ugh. Shudder. Just the mere thought of them totally freaks me out. I won't go into too much detail about them, because it will start to make me feel sick, but let's just say the way they look, and fly, and the possibility of them with my hair....
STOP.
Move on.
Unfortunately for me we've had both spiders AND moths. More spiders, far more. Moths have been small, luckily, but still a decent size for me to have to insist on their death.
I've actually almost lost count of the times and places I've gone on my killing spree/demanded Hubbie to kill. Just tonight, only an hour ago, I killed 2 spiders. These aren't your little jumping spiders, these are huge Mothers, freakin' put all others to shame. That's why I'm so scared/fed up/overwhelmed. Why the hell are they coming out? Where are they coming from? I mean, how many spiders could there possibly be in one household?
GO away PLEASE!
I've chased them, killed them, tracked them, stamped on them, used my shoe, I've become a spider-killing expert. It's resulted in huge paranoia. I'm constantly looking around me, above to the walls and ceilings, scanning the floors, checking out every nook and cranny for a disgusting... thing. Ugh. The big ones are the scary ones, but usually kark it straight away from the mortein, despite their size.
Moths I can't stand. Those I corner into rooms, close the door, and then leave until Hubbie is able to get rid of them.
Just the other night, I was pleading for him to get a moth out of our bedroom, I needed to get stuff out of there. "Kill eat, save it, eat it, do whatever you want with it just get it out of here."
He raised an eyebrow "Does that mean you'll still kiss me if I eat it?"
"No."
"Well then don't say eat it."
"Oh." Scowl follows. Just kill the bloody thing.
Moths have generally popped up upstairs in the bedrooms, but spiders have been everywhere! Especially the lounge room, that's the 'hang-out,' especially for the big mothers.
Sigh.
I love summer. I LOVE summer weather. But what I'm beginning to realise, in this house anyway, is that summer heat is going to have a side-effect this year, a big annoying, constantly popping up and reoccurring nuisance.
I'm staring at one now. Don't worry it's not a live one. I flooded it with spray just a while ago, and now it lies dead, at the foot of the stairs.
Huh. Serves you right spider. You don't enter our domain! Tell your friends now to stay away..... oh, that's right. Well hopefully your friends have special spider radar and can sense your deadness.....
The freaking spiders and the freaking moths.
Although it's only Spring, this fair, ridiculously unpredictable city of ours, has experienced some bizarre heat wave in the past week, with temperatures barely dropping under 30 degrees celcius.
With heat like that, there have been some unexpected and unwelcome visitors in our home.
Now, with spiders, although I'm not a total arachnophobe like my sister is, I still don't like them. They totally freak me out, and I don't like them anywhere near me. I can handle them better than my sis though. Hubbie pointed out one of her bizarre talents only a week ago, it's hilarious. She has some sort of freaky spider radar. She can enter a room/area, and within moments determine and pinpoint the location of every creepy crawly, and with a dismissive hand point out to her husband the areas in which he needs to get to work exterminating.
Think Arnie in Terminator 2 scanning for the bad terminator via his radar, however in this instance it's spiders.
LOL it's great to watch.
Anyway, as I was saying, I don't like spiders. But what I have an unnatural phobia of are moths. Ugh. Shudder. Just the mere thought of them totally freaks me out. I won't go into too much detail about them, because it will start to make me feel sick, but let's just say the way they look, and fly, and the possibility of them with my hair....
STOP.
Move on.
Unfortunately for me we've had both spiders AND moths. More spiders, far more. Moths have been small, luckily, but still a decent size for me to have to insist on their death.
I've actually almost lost count of the times and places I've gone on my killing spree/demanded Hubbie to kill. Just tonight, only an hour ago, I killed 2 spiders. These aren't your little jumping spiders, these are huge Mothers, freakin' put all others to shame. That's why I'm so scared/fed up/overwhelmed. Why the hell are they coming out? Where are they coming from? I mean, how many spiders could there possibly be in one household?
GO away PLEASE!
I've chased them, killed them, tracked them, stamped on them, used my shoe, I've become a spider-killing expert. It's resulted in huge paranoia. I'm constantly looking around me, above to the walls and ceilings, scanning the floors, checking out every nook and cranny for a disgusting... thing. Ugh. The big ones are the scary ones, but usually kark it straight away from the mortein, despite their size.
Moths I can't stand. Those I corner into rooms, close the door, and then leave until Hubbie is able to get rid of them.
Just the other night, I was pleading for him to get a moth out of our bedroom, I needed to get stuff out of there. "Kill eat, save it, eat it, do whatever you want with it just get it out of here."
He raised an eyebrow "Does that mean you'll still kiss me if I eat it?"
"No."
"Well then don't say eat it."
"Oh." Scowl follows. Just kill the bloody thing.
Moths have generally popped up upstairs in the bedrooms, but spiders have been everywhere! Especially the lounge room, that's the 'hang-out,' especially for the big mothers.
Sigh.
I love summer. I LOVE summer weather. But what I'm beginning to realise, in this house anyway, is that summer heat is going to have a side-effect this year, a big annoying, constantly popping up and reoccurring nuisance.
I'm staring at one now. Don't worry it's not a live one. I flooded it with spray just a while ago, and now it lies dead, at the foot of the stairs.
Huh. Serves you right spider. You don't enter our domain! Tell your friends now to stay away..... oh, that's right. Well hopefully your friends have special spider radar and can sense your deadness.....
Friday, August 21, 2009
Summer is your Saturday, so today must be Spring
Driving to work today, I started to think about how great it was that it was Friday. Isn't it odd, how the whole anticipation of Friday afternoon and the weekend, the whole lead-up to it, is actually in some ways better and more thrilling than experiencing the actual weekend?
I think it's due to our wild imaginations. In our heads we have a multitude of plans and ideas, people to see, places to go and things to do, and the thought of all the endless possibilities create pure excitement. More often than not, we don't even get to do half of what we planned to do, then we get to Sunday, and as quickly as the excitement welled up, just as quick does it diminish when you see what's around the corner.
The start of the working week.
It's much like the seasons.
I love summer. Love, love, love it. I would rather be caught up in a boiling hot stinking day than be freezing my absolute you-know-what off. It is soooooo uncomfortable when it is cold. Yet when it's warm you can relax, read a book, tan, go for walks, shopping, eat out....... not that you can't do that in horrible weather (hehe) but you know, the wind and rain sort of ruins it. And in summer, well the sun shines on everything you do. :)
So I got to thinking. It's not the most mind-blowing of metaphors, but it works for me. The end of the working week is much like the anticipation of summer (well for those that favourably anticipate it.)
Friday is like the end of Winter, start of Spring, where you start to get that crisp Sunny weather, but it's still cold enough to remind you that it's not swimming weather yet.
Not that it matters that you have to wait, because you're already excited! It's here, it's here! Just knowing it's close, it's around the corner, is all you need. So you start to plan what you'll do on all your sunny days off, where you'll go, where you'll walk, eat, shop and just sun around. You make all of these plans, and it puts a right big smile on your face. :)
Then suddenly, before you know it, it's Summer! Like your Saturday, you go about doing all the big things you planned for, and hey, you do enjoy yourself! But somewhere in the back of your mind, you're thinking "something unfavourable is just around the corner," and as much as you try to put it out of your mind, you can't seem to forget the fact that the chill is approaching, in both literal and figurative terms. But time moves too quickly. All these things you plan on doing, well you're lucky if you do half of them. Time ticks and slips away through your fingers and you suddenly start to wish you had more time. But because you don't know a crazy old scientist with a DeLorean time machine, you can't really do much about it.
Quicker than you can click your fingers, Autumn is here. Sunday and Autumn are reflective times, when you look back at the good times you've just had, and try brace yourself for what's ahead. You try to enjoy it as well, hey it's not that bad, not yet, but to no avail. You've past the best and now the only way to look is forward.
And then it comes. Winter again. Monday morning.
It's a cycle, that we perform every week, every year. Despite not getting anything really done, and despite being disappointed when Monday comes around, we still allow ourselves to get excited over and over again, knowing in the back of our minds that we'll soon be disappointed.
But we're human. We need something to look forward to.
In the end, all you can do is look forward to Friday again, so the sun can start to shine on you.
I think it's due to our wild imaginations. In our heads we have a multitude of plans and ideas, people to see, places to go and things to do, and the thought of all the endless possibilities create pure excitement. More often than not, we don't even get to do half of what we planned to do, then we get to Sunday, and as quickly as the excitement welled up, just as quick does it diminish when you see what's around the corner.
The start of the working week.
It's much like the seasons.
I love summer. Love, love, love it. I would rather be caught up in a boiling hot stinking day than be freezing my absolute you-know-what off. It is soooooo uncomfortable when it is cold. Yet when it's warm you can relax, read a book, tan, go for walks, shopping, eat out....... not that you can't do that in horrible weather (hehe) but you know, the wind and rain sort of ruins it. And in summer, well the sun shines on everything you do. :)
So I got to thinking. It's not the most mind-blowing of metaphors, but it works for me. The end of the working week is much like the anticipation of summer (well for those that favourably anticipate it.)
Friday is like the end of Winter, start of Spring, where you start to get that crisp Sunny weather, but it's still cold enough to remind you that it's not swimming weather yet.
Not that it matters that you have to wait, because you're already excited! It's here, it's here! Just knowing it's close, it's around the corner, is all you need. So you start to plan what you'll do on all your sunny days off, where you'll go, where you'll walk, eat, shop and just sun around. You make all of these plans, and it puts a right big smile on your face. :)
Then suddenly, before you know it, it's Summer! Like your Saturday, you go about doing all the big things you planned for, and hey, you do enjoy yourself! But somewhere in the back of your mind, you're thinking "something unfavourable is just around the corner," and as much as you try to put it out of your mind, you can't seem to forget the fact that the chill is approaching, in both literal and figurative terms. But time moves too quickly. All these things you plan on doing, well you're lucky if you do half of them. Time ticks and slips away through your fingers and you suddenly start to wish you had more time. But because you don't know a crazy old scientist with a DeLorean time machine, you can't really do much about it.
Quicker than you can click your fingers, Autumn is here. Sunday and Autumn are reflective times, when you look back at the good times you've just had, and try brace yourself for what's ahead. You try to enjoy it as well, hey it's not that bad, not yet, but to no avail. You've past the best and now the only way to look is forward.
And then it comes. Winter again. Monday morning.
It's a cycle, that we perform every week, every year. Despite not getting anything really done, and despite being disappointed when Monday comes around, we still allow ourselves to get excited over and over again, knowing in the back of our minds that we'll soon be disappointed.
But we're human. We need something to look forward to.
In the end, all you can do is look forward to Friday again, so the sun can start to shine on you.
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