Last week, when Tom was in the hospital, J and L drove me home. I have two steps up into my home, covered by a metal canopy awning. When we bought the house, Tom said the awnings would be the first things to go. We actually love them and want to replace the ones the previous owner removed. However, last week the awning provided the base for the movie spider from Hell and its web. I looked up and said simply, “F*ck!” L said, ” I have never heard you use that word.” Quite an accomplishment, considering I have known her for almost five years. J, who loves all creatures had to dispatch it. “Ya know, it’s trapped about 30 insects in the web so it’s doing well.” Okay, I really don’t mind spiders. I don’t like being bitten by them. I dated someone during the Son-of-Sam summer who was terrified of them. That fear, coupled with Son-of-Sam, led to minimal groping. And yes, when I was at camp, I used to bring daddy longlegs into the tent for their mosquito killing abilities. Natural insect repellant.
When I was married to my first husband, I was growing my hair out because I couldn’t afford to cut it. I was reading the latest Patricia Cornwall in the tub. A brown thing dangled by my eye. Oh, my hair has fallen down. NO!! Big, hairy movie spider. Cornwall in tub. Me screaming. First husband, deaf and detached. Reasons to leave, Part 1.
So, J wouldn’t kill it. I agree. It’s hard to kill things with bodies. He captured it and moved it to the end of the yard in the petunias.
Yesterday morning around 1:40 a.m. I got up to go to the bathroom, not my usual hour. Tom gets up too as he is nervous about my walking to and from the loo. With this condition, I have been known to stagger, stumble and fall. He looked out the front door panels. “There are cop cars all over.” Indeed, there were. There are only three occupied houses on this little block. Police seemed to be swarming all over a car parked on the street across from us. The fellow across the street came out onto his porch. This is odd. He and Tom are always being arrested. Their normal reaction to police are flee and/or hide. His house was surrounded by SWAT teams a few years back. We never really got to the bottom of that story. Then a K9 arrived. I was in the bedroom trying to stay in a good place to sleep but falling into the urge and peeking at the security cameras through the phone. The next thing was I saw and heard the police by my bedroom window on the side of the house. There was a pounding on the door. The huge spider had returned with a huge web! We clearly had not been in or out of the house. Saved by the web. And kind of amusing to know that Timmy wasn’t the only tough guy scared of spiders. The police wanted to know if we knew anything about the car parked across the street as 4 men had been reported going into the car lot. And what about our car in the driveway. Uh, it’s ours? One of the reasons we are camera’d up is the amount of flats I was getting in the driveway any time we complained about the car lot (with massage parlor). I was livid at this latest police involvement. I have called before in the early morning hours when Tom has been out of control, trying to get into the house when I have had a refrain from order. There were no dogs or multiple cars. I have called and he has jumped the fence into the woods. No dogs. Finally, we heard barking. Four young men were lined up by our mail box. They were let go with what appeared to be a ticket.
Now, this played havoc with chief inspector Kitty Bardot. She has bad associations with police cars at the house at night. Last time they were here, she ran out and was lost for months. She survived Hurricane Sandy and the blizzard following it. The vet said she would only have survived another night or so, if we hadn’t caught her. Kitty Bardot was scared. Upshot? She threw up on my black silk Chinese robe. Yuck.
It’s getting cooler now in the morning and I needed that robe. I remembered I had a short, white silk embroidered Chinese robe from Hong Kong in the closet. My boss at my first fashion job had brought it back for me years ago. She said she thought of me when she saw it, that I was a sexy, little thing. Ha! Back to that “little” thing again. Never thought of myself as little, sexy perhaps, but never little. And true to family tradition, I have almost never worn it. Of course, it still fit. The silk was so much softer and more luxe than I remembered. Where did that girl ever get to?
And now I can barely walk. Being sexy is the last thing that matters to me. And how would I have coped with police around the house? Or spiders? And I worry. There are always people coming and going from the car lot, at all hours and all days. I know the owner discounts me because I am a woman and can’t walk living with a drunk. And I am being exposed to people who see my weaknesses. I HATE being thought of as weak.
I’m gonna depend on those spiders, for now.