2005-09-16 @ 12:22 a.m.
Okay, so I finally got caught. And yes, it was a little embarrassing. I usually try to do it during the day when nobody is home. But the time was so ripe around dusk tonight. And I did look around to make sure nobody was around. Once to the left. All clear. Once to the right. All clear. And then I grabbed my broom and started my daily hallway spider cleansing, because you see, I'm the weird woman in apartment #10 who surreptitiously goes out and sweeps the ceiling of the outdoor hallways every day.
Of course to the untrained eye, it looks like some OCD chick trying to sweep imaginary dust bunnies off the ceiling, but in reality, its really just me on nightly spider patrol. I mean, I can do it during the day, but I think spiders sleep during the day, or maybe they're in their spider condos watching "Days of Our Lives" or something. Because I rarely see them during the day. But around dusk, baby, its like Bloomingdales the day after Thanksgiving. There are literally hundreds of them, everywhere. And two apartments down, which is where I have to walk past, is where the Hulk Hogan of Spiderdom lives. He is huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge.
I've tried swiping him down several times and he always scurries under these shudders that are on either sides of our doors. I guess he's gotten to be that size either by his superior escaping abilities or he eats elderly tenants who accidently walk into his spider web and he drags them into his lair. He's just....that....big.
Of course I do feel kind of stupid wielding a broom down in front of someone else's apartment. But don't they see that damn mega-spider when they walk through the woven masses of webs when they unlock their doors? I mean that damn web has to be at least 4 feet across and it has strands attached from the ceiling to the ground which is at least 9 feet tall. Doesn't the tenant kinda feel something soft brushing against his face? Or see that damn eight legged freak who is about the size of a chihuahua dangling 3 inches from his face? Christ, I can see it as soon as I walk into the parking lot. And I always go on immediate alert and kind of nervously skitter along the railing, when I walk by it, so I don't have to get too close.
So anyways, so once I got home from my walk, from the largely spider-free Village (they all live here evidently), I went and got my broom, marched down there, swung wildly with my eyes mostly closed, and actually managed to knock Spider-zilla onto the ground. And then out of the corner of my eye, I was suddenly aware that someone was walking towards me, but damn it, I wasn't about to let that bastard get away again, so I just stomped on it like it like I was stomping on the filipino mail order whore face...stomp, stomp, stomp, until I saw fluids squirting out from under my sneaker. Victor....”Oh hi!” --y. There was a young girl in her early twenties standing there. And I'm sure I looked alot like Sigourney Weaver in "Alien" after she had annihilated the alien thingie. Except about 40 pounds heavier and wearing capri pants with embroidery.
Naturally, with broom in hand and feeling somewhat like an idiot, I immediately felt the need to explain what I was doing, stomping madly on the wooden walkway. Yeah, maybe witty. I told her I was really scared of spiders and that I had just finally killed a really large one. And she broke out into a huge smile and said "You did??" and I said "Yes" and she said, her and her sister live two apartments apart and she said she's afraid to walk between the two apartments after dark because there's so many huge spiders hanging down!
Ah ha! See! I'm not the only arachnophobe in the building. She went on to say, when the spiders get too bad, she calls her boyfriend over to kill them. (See! Boys are good for something besides checking under your hood and opening mayonnaise jars.)
She then went on to ask if I had seen the raccoon yet. The raccoon? Well, I guess I do live next to a wooded creek. She said she has seen it twice. Once it just ran down the walkway when it saw her, but one night she surprised it around the edge of one of the jutouts, and it bolted and jumped off the second floor level into the creek down below. Geronimoooooo!
Wahhh! Now, I wanna see a raccoon.
My appointment with “A” yesterday went well. It was good to see him after nearly 3 weeks. It was a rough three weeks, and I just really needed to see a familiar, friendly face. Rather than talking about anything psychological, I used my half hour to talk exclusively about what to do about my croaked car. He was very helpful and gave me a lot of useful information and tips. I knew he would. He’s very knowledgeable about all this stuff. I guess there are really only two options for me. One is calling this guy he knows who sells cars. And then the second one is to possibly buy a used newer car under warranty from this local big car dealership (Mr. HUUUUUUGE-cillo) who will supposedly finance just about anyone for a car (and I would be the Litmus test for sure).
As usual, I have anxiety about doing either or both things and I definitely don’t want to bring my mom with me to Mr. HUUUUUGE because she always drags out these pity stories about us to people and its really humiliating and they may work on some old lady in a thrift store, but they’re not going to work at a big car dealership. A car salesman doesn’t give a shit if you’re on food stamps and poor. They just want your money and your signature on a contract. But nothing will convince my mother of this. She thinks guilting people into helping you is the only way to go. So I talked to my case mgr. today and she said she will go with me to the car dealership next Friday. Wish it was sooner, because being without a car really sucks, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? So we’ll see!
I also got a most excellent massage today, and man did I ever need it. The old fibro has really been kicking my ass lately and I’ve been so crotchety with pain that I’ve been barely able to move. I do still take my nightly walks not to mention kill large spiders, because I refuse to give in to this stupid illness. I will be seeing a rheumatologist next week finally. My doctor’s office finally got off their ass and got me a referral. It only took 3 weeks, dammit. I talked to the stupid receptionist who got the appointment this morning and she was all snerked out about it because they hadn’t called HER back, so she had to call THEM back. Can you imagine? Oh my god! I think we should bring in government officials or something.
And then I made the colossal mistake of innocently, or okay, maybe rather pointedly asking her if she thought the rheumatologist might help with the intensive pain I’ve been in (and yes, I used the words intensive pain...you know, the pain MY doctor, YOUR boss, didn’t do anything about) and she got all pissy and said, “I don’t know” (heavy sigh -all these silly patients and their silly illnesses).
You just you wait, missy. Someday, like when a car runs over your foot (no--not mine, although....), you may just see what pain feels like and then you’ll realize what an idiot you were dismissing a patient’s simple request for some assurance about something that was important to them.
By the way....when I went to take a shower tonight, I took off my Reeboks and got totally eeked out. Why? Because on the bottom of my shoe was the large black carcass of the spider I had stepped on, all squished into the grooves of the sole of my shoes.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty