In which I pretend to have a life outside of my house

I actually ventured outside of the house more than once this past week. I think I spent more time out of the house than actually in it. (Well, awake at least. I don’t count sleeping hours.) I missed my cousin’s open house cuzz Greg didn’t get home from work until there was only a half an hour left, but we did stuff with his mom that evening and then had a full day Sunday. Yesterday me and the kids went visiting before my aunt left the state again and now I get to do house crap until I venture out again tomorrow. One more graduation party on Saturday (this one from college) and I think I might be tapped for the summer. 😛

I had meant to blog about an adventure I had the other morning before I decided to pretend like I had a life, but I got distracted by something and never got around to it. I think I’ll share now. It all started when I decided to do laundry in the morning again and I discovered this looking back at me –

Why hello there. My name is Smokie and I'm an asshole.

Needless to say, I was a bit shocked to find the Forever Kitten® sitting on top of one of the doors for the laundry area. She got up there the day before and tried to kill me with her laser eyes, which she obviously failed at. I’m pretty sure she’s hanging out up there now in order to carry out her murderous plot against me.

Anyway.

So, I stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out exactly how she was able to get up there without smashing her head on the door frame. I couldn’t figure it out and went to start the washing machine when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Anyone who’s been reading my writing for any length of time can probably figure out what I saw. *Fair warning – There might be more swearing than usual beyond this point. Just thought y’all might want to know that.*

There was a fucking SPIDER on my ceiling not all that far from Smokie.

This did not please me, since spiders are full of evil and clown blood. I attempted to get Smokie to slay the vile beast for me, since that’s what cats are supposed to do. She pretty much told me to fuck off without so much as a flick of her little kitty wrist (ankle?) and looked away from me so she could sleep on her perch and dream about how she was going to pounce on my head while I walked by her. I stared at the fucking spider for a minute, being sure to repress the blood curdling scream that threatened to escape my lips. Then I decided to grow some balls.

I began to lift my cane towards the ceiling.

Now, killing spiders ain’t my thang. Not at all. I’ve documented how I’ve gone round and round with a spider for hours in an attempt to get the courage up to smash the living shit out it. I’ve also documented about how I failed and the spider lived in the office, planning my demise, until I was told I couldn’t work anymore and it moved on to another target. The fact that I began to lift my cane to think about killing that thing should impress the shit out of each and every person reading this.

I lifted my cane and got within an inch or two of the nasty thing when I realized something. A little while ago, the rubber tip on the end of my cane came off. It looks like it’s still there on the outside, but if you look at the bottom of it, the whole rubber bottom is missing and all that’s there is a metal circle that may or may not be a Metal Circle of Death®. I’m still running tests on that. At any rate, I was pretty sure that there was no way I was going to be able to play smashy with the spider if I didn’t have something solid on the end of my cane. After a little thought, I retrieved one of The Ginger’s shoes.

I placed the shoe on the end of my cane and returned to the hallway. The fucking spider hadn’t moved. Surely, this was part of it’s evil plan to kill me and dominate my household. I very slowly lifted my shoe-cane to where the spider was. I touched the toe of the shoe-cane to the ceiling right next to it. It stayed where it was, staring at me and imagining what my sweet, pale flesh would taste like. I’m almost willing to swear that I saw little teeny drool droplets coming out of it’s disgusting mouth. Almost. I took a deep breath and readied myself. If I was successful, then I would be full of AWESOME for the rest of the day, if not the rest of the week. If I failed, I was certain to be devoured by that eight legged fucker. I prepared to play smashy when it happened.

The son of a bitch MOVED!

I think I was working on pure adrenaline cuzz I don’t really remember doing what happened next. It was like I was on auto-pilot. It began to dart across the ceiling in an effort to survive another day and to scare the shit out of me by disappearing and not being seen again until it was ready to carry out it’s sick and twisted plot to destroy me. The next thing I knew, I had played smashy and was staring at the mark I left on the ceiling.

I never actually saw the remains of the spider, but there’s a pretty big spot on the ceiling where the spider was. Rather than imagine that it’s still living here, somewhere, figuring out exactly which night it’s going to crawl into my ear and eat my sweet, sweet brain (cuzz all spiders are also zombies), I have decided that the stain on the ceiling also contains the spider carcass. It’s possible to smashy something hard enough that it disintegrates. Right?

So, that’s what’s been going down in my neck of the woods. I’ve been up since 0400 when Miss Squish decided she needed to have a VERY loud conversation with Eeyore. I’ve done the dishes, started the laundry, gotten The Ginger to take out the trash and have drank a pot of coffee. If you include writing this blog, I’ve done a helluva lot this morning. Tomorrow, I get to go adventuring again. Weeha.

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  1. The shit cats find comfortable is totally mind blowing. O HAY ON TOP OF THIS DOOR LOOKS GREAT

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