THE DAY I MET NIELS

18 September 2008, 02.57am

scrittle
frit frit
scrittle

The noise was not really loud enough to be called a noise; it was more of a movement than a sound. Still, it was persistent enough to wake me. I never sleep properly when Old Spouse is away; ever alert to things that go bump in the night, or the polite nose-nudge of a dog that needs to be let out for a pee.

I turned on my bedside lamp and looked around, nothing amiss. Took a walk around the house, checked windows and behind doors. Nada. I thought I would take advantage of being up and forced both dogs to go outside and do their thing. Tucked them back in and went back to bed. As I leaned to switch the light off, a movement caught my eye and I looked up at the ceiling. There, staring balefully at me, all his legs spread like a gun-toting cowboy; was a spider the size of a dinner plate.

Within a millisecond I was out of the room, I believe I did it without touching the floor. I’ve been told that these chaps are harmless, but there is no way I am going back into that room while he is there. The spare bed is covered by books I have been sorting for a charity sale and if I climb in with Original Bunn she is likely to wake up and that can only bode bad luck for people who have to deal with her in the morning.

So here I am, there is nothing worthwhile on the television and I have read every piece of paper in the house (Mental Note: library books are overdue), I don’t much feel like knitting and it appears that I am the only person in the world online. I’d like to finish the Sunday crossword puzzles, but that necessitates a trip back to the bedroom and I suspect Mr. Arachnid has called all his friends over for a party by now.

It is probably going to be a very, very long day.

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11 thoughts on “THE DAY I MET NIELS

  1. This is one of the biggest issues I have with being the “man in the house”.

    I share the arachnid fears that so many of us have, but whenever we get one of these hairy legged dinner-plates in our house I’m the one who has to deal with it.

    It’s a sexist conspiracy I tell you!

    Why’d you name him Niels I wonder?

    • Well, I came online and there was nobody around; except for a crazy new blogger called Aquarius Joe. We all later came to know him as Niels Himself. And life has never been the same.

  2. If memory serves from when this story was first told, the little bitty spider died a gruesome death. I believe it was death by vacuum cleaner… or am I mistaking this old arachnid for another?

  3. Yes, whatever happened to that cutting edge blogger Aquarius Joe, now all we have is poetry and syrupy sweetness from some twee guy called Niels.

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