From where I am sitting...
...without moving my head, I can see a dozen spiders.
They are clustered mostly around the edges of the window, waiting patiently for small flying things to tweak the webstrings. If I watch for long enough, one of them will scurry out along a line, sink its fangs into a poor unsuspecting moth, wrap it up in a few rounds of silk, then scurry back to the edge again.
In the evening, as the daylight outside begins to fade to dusk and then dark, they become more active. One particularly adventurous spider clambered over my hand as it poised over the keyboard the other night, and I've lost track of the times the one that lives in the anglepoise lamp has dropped down from above, dangling in the light of the lcd screen for a moment before hauling herself back up again.
I have three broken mugs on my windowsill, each filled with biros that don't work anymore; felt tips worn blunt and dried out; highlighter pens that ignore my editorial leanings; and assorted bits and pieces I can pick up, fiddle with, and put down again when I am in need of distraction. Except that they are stuck together like burglars in a Spiderman comic. Picking anything off the windowsill is to risk being covered in sticky string, trailing a line of desiccated insects, daddy-long-legs wings and all the other bits which aren't good to eat, like some bizarre wedding decoration. The husks of dried midges stir in the breeze whenever I open the window, flying through the air one last time before ending up in my rooibos tea.
When I came into the study this morning, not that many hours since leaving it last night, and bent down to switch on the power at the single socket that serves this room, I could feel the invisible strands pulling at my arms and face where the industrious little arachnids had tried to weave a web from wall to wall. I wonder what they were hoping to catch? A dachshund perhaps? Or is their ambition for even greater things? Perhaps I'll wake up one morning swaddled in silk, unable to move as the tiny creatures inject me with enzymes that digest me from the inside out.
this picture is upside down.
Maybe it's time to get the vacuum cleaner out again. But then again, they eat the bugs I really dislike, the midges and mosquitoes, the tiny moths that think your sleeping ear is a good place for a party. So maybe I'll let them stay.
Oh, look. There's another.
They are clustered mostly around the edges of the window, waiting patiently for small flying things to tweak the webstrings. If I watch for long enough, one of them will scurry out along a line, sink its fangs into a poor unsuspecting moth, wrap it up in a few rounds of silk, then scurry back to the edge again.
In the evening, as the daylight outside begins to fade to dusk and then dark, they become more active. One particularly adventurous spider clambered over my hand as it poised over the keyboard the other night, and I've lost track of the times the one that lives in the anglepoise lamp has dropped down from above, dangling in the light of the lcd screen for a moment before hauling herself back up again.
I have three broken mugs on my windowsill, each filled with biros that don't work anymore; felt tips worn blunt and dried out; highlighter pens that ignore my editorial leanings; and assorted bits and pieces I can pick up, fiddle with, and put down again when I am in need of distraction. Except that they are stuck together like burglars in a Spiderman comic. Picking anything off the windowsill is to risk being covered in sticky string, trailing a line of desiccated insects, daddy-long-legs wings and all the other bits which aren't good to eat, like some bizarre wedding decoration. The husks of dried midges stir in the breeze whenever I open the window, flying through the air one last time before ending up in my rooibos tea.
When I came into the study this morning, not that many hours since leaving it last night, and bent down to switch on the power at the single socket that serves this room, I could feel the invisible strands pulling at my arms and face where the industrious little arachnids had tried to weave a web from wall to wall. I wonder what they were hoping to catch? A dachshund perhaps? Or is their ambition for even greater things? Perhaps I'll wake up one morning swaddled in silk, unable to move as the tiny creatures inject me with enzymes that digest me from the inside out.
this picture is upside down.Maybe it's time to get the vacuum cleaner out again. But then again, they eat the bugs I really dislike, the midges and mosquitoes, the tiny moths that think your sleeping ear is a good place for a party. So maybe I'll let them stay.
Oh, look. There's another.
Comments
I've kind of got used to the small ones now, but every so often a great big hairy beasty will scuttle across the floor, or drop onto my head whilst I'm getting dressed, or...
This isn't helping, is it?
Mind you, I suppose they might just bring them to you as trophies...
Did you get them from my garage, by chance?
Spiders are useful creatures, but I prefer them outside.
I don't need to wipe off a spider's leg at the same time!