...and I'm nowhere near the end of the bloody thing. Maybe I should write when I feel like crap more often; I don't nim-twiddle, I just bang out raw text. And it is raw. Hatchets may well be needed in editing.
Oooh, I ache and my throat hurts and I am afraid to go to the bathroom. There is a certain arachnoid quality to the piece I am writing; the occasional large spider plays a part. So I was slightly freaked, earlier this evening, to find the upstairs bathroom inhabited by a humungous spider right next to the loo. This is the first biggie in our house since the first winter we moved in three years ago. And here I am, alone in the house with it until Sunday!
Maybe this is a totemic thumbs up. If so, well, thanks Arachne or Spirit Spider Woman or whoever, I appreciate this, but I'm at a loss as to what to do with your impressively sized rep. If I leave the poor thing, the moogs will play horrible games with its legs, but I really don't think I can touch it myself. I can remove teeny spiders and put them outside, but anything that makes the floorboards creak by moving is out of my league; wap it with a rolled up newspaper and it'll just take it off me and hit me back.
Maybe I should just rest my beer on its head. Hell, maybe I should pour it a beer. If it's ordering at all, it's ordering a pint.
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