When you start your day with a black, fanged spider at your feet you know your in for a challenging day.
Picture if you will...
It's 4.30am and I get myself up and out of bed. The spider, which for the purposes of this blog shall be named Derrick, has positioned itself at the side of my bed. This of course is the side of the bed I normally get out of. I pass Derrick in the dark whilst going for the light switch and as I turn, I spot him, frozen, staring at me, daring me to make my move.
Now, although the not best of situations, with regards to spider encounters, this is in fact a very good position to be in. I am by the door and and therefore not trapped by my visitor, nothing worse than a spider having control of your only exit. So at this point I am faced with a tough decision... Stay where I am, assured of Derrick's location, or go for help, help which comes in the form of housemates.
I run through my options in my mind...
Bex + Spiders = Screaming.
Jordi + Spiders = More screaming.
Az + spiders = fainting.
Helen + Spiders = Rescued. Yes Helen! No no, wait Helen + 4.30am = Dead Jema.
Gabor! Gabor + Spiders + 4.30am + chocolate cake = Dead spider!
I guess the only thing worse than waking up to a black, fanged spider at 4.30am in the morning is to wake up to a housemate, screaming about a black, fanged spider that she no longer knows the location of...
Be warned, Derrick is still out there...
