Really?! Honestly?! (or the overuse of an interrobang)

interrobang... just for the record, you know...

Anyway, on to the things that make me raise my eyebrows in stunned disbelief of what my eyes are very plainly telling me is true:

This is a spider.  This is a spider in my house.  This is a spider in my kitchen trying to kill me when I clean the cat boxes.  Ok, the last sentence may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I did find this... lovely...creature lurking beneath the cat boxes, just waiting to jump out and cause me to flail myself onto one of the many sharp objects in that very same kitchen.  What is it with the arachnids of late!? Why can I only see 7 of its legs--a fact that I didn't notice when I ran screaming, like the ninny I am, from the spider to go fetch my camera and take pictures of it before I eventually squished it... because I'm cruel and vicious where these critters are concerned.  Anyway, I didn't notice it's disturbing lack of a leg until just now... which reminds me that the only evidence I have that I did any harm to the first spider this year who tried to kill me was a long dangling leg left upon my car's window... thingy. Is this spider a messenger?!  It's not the same spider, because that spider was little and grey and this one is large and black and brown and even ookier despite it's lack of the tell-tale arachnid leg #8... But I am still haunted by that day!  This spider brings a message of woe and distruction!  He/She is trying to warn me that the arachnid community is out to get me... you remember the one in my Sun Chips?  That was probably a message from some strange spider mafia too...

On a completely un-related note--
I own the majority of the clothes in this household.  I have categorically more clothes than my husband.  So why is it that every load of laundry that comes out of the washer/dryer is 85% his clothes!?  The math just doesn't add up.  Eventually, there should be many many loads of laundry comprised solely of my clothes, and yet that never seems to happen.  I fish through every basket, looking for things to cover my nudity and am constantly surprised at the lack of suitable things for me to wear.  And why is my closet not empty by now!?  I'm not going out and buying new clothes every week.  Is my closet some mysterious cornucopia of clothes that I don't really like so it always looks full no matter how much I wear or take out, try on, then throw in the dirty hamper, or on the bed, or on the dresser!?  It sounds like a good deal, but it just means the unlimited ability to create laundry that doesn't seem to get washed...

Ok, so that's what I've got right now... spiders & laundry...
really?!
honestly?!?
Have you lost your mind, world?!

Tales of Arachnid Woe, Part OMG

So, after my last brush with death via spider, I thought I was done with arachnid horror stories for at least a couple of months.  I was WRONG!

Like lots of stories that happen at our faire, this one starts with: Non merde, there I was...

backstage, having second breakfast.  Second breakfast is a very important part of my faire day.  Actual breakfast usually happens sometime around 6:30, so by the time the gate opens and it's time to face the general public, I've burned through whatever protein, carbs, sugar and caffeine I started my day with.  Traditionally, second breakfast is either a scone or sausage roll from The Bakery, or a hard boiled egg.  On this particular day, I opted for the egg.

So... there I was, egg in hand.  And just as a sort of extended side note, is there any general consensus on the proper way to boil an egg so that the results are a) easy to peel, 2) not tinged with green, and D) fully cooked through the middle?  I've heard and tried so many different variations with no consistent results.  I've put cold eggs in cold water and room temperature eggs in room temperature water.  I've brought them to a quick boil, a slow boil, an apathetically timed boil.  I've boiled them for few minutes and many minutes. I've rinsed them in cold water or left them to sit in their own hot water.  I've added salt or vinegar to the water. I've watched the pot and ignored the pot and told the pot sweet stories of the noble eggs that have gone before... anyway, it's a source of consternation that I cannot fathom the correct method to be able to reproduce results that are good.

But back to the breakfast in question, which was my second of the day.  So, with my hard boiled eggs, I like salt.  Usually just sort of sprinkled on the egg, however, those wise and colorful ladies with whom I most often share my second breakfast have improvised an innovative solution that allows me to justify potato chips for breakfast.  Yes, indeed--just use the salt on the chips instead of sprinkling it on the egg.  Brilliant!  On this day, I decided to rebel even further and skip the potato chips and go straight to the Sun Chips, a decision that I would soon regret with every fiber of my not-insubstantial being.

**whew** deep breath... even the retelling is stressful...

Ok, I'm ready to go on.

The trials and tribulations of my commute

Alright, so... it's a miracle I'm alive today. I mean, in more than just the usual "every life is a miracle" type way. It's a miracle that I survived the drive to work. So there I was, driving to work, cruising along 75 at slightly above the speed limit thanks to a spectacular lack of slow-causing traffic. Then, I noticed something pop into view. It was in the middle of my windshield, but I was having a hard time focusing on it. Probably because I was looking through the windshield and not at it. Once my eyes focused, I realized the awful truth.


A spider had come down from my sun-visor-shade-thingy and was now dangling by its silk right in front of my face.

Alright, let's back up a minute to discuss the severity of the situation.