spiders

You'll be delighted to hear that Mothersruin is back up and firing on most cylinders once again. After Saturdays shenanigans I was beginning to doubt I'd ever squeeze the last drop of Lauren Perier out of my soggy muscles, but as it turns out biology (in't biology bwilliant!) won over and I am pure once again.
Which means that in the absence of Husband (got to pop off to Sardinia luvvy, back on Wednesday... oh. work or pleasure?) I have achieved achieved achieved. My house is a haven of beauty and smells like freshly baked cakes (not much change there then) and my garden could have been lifted from Hampton Court so well pruned and tweaked is it. I wouldn't be surprised if a scout from Elle Deco dropped by to congratulate me on my success.
But has anyone noticed that the spiders are back? Or is it just my house and its strange Haringey location - plonked between two bachelors' houses on top of a steep hill, a magpie nest in a nearby tree and cats everywhere - it sounds like the makings of a witches den... Often there is a strange old man who sits on my roof, in a moss-green-cloak, I can't see his face, but he holds a crow and cythe... I don't know, all very suspicious.
Anyway, back to the real world. So, I have spiders in every nook and cranny of the house.
First thing in the morning - I get into the shower. The shower door is currently housing a spider and web. Not an obvious place for passing flies and grubs, perhaps Winkworths has been applauding itself on another fantastic rip-off sale in the neighbourhood...
In the kitchen above the kettle if I follow the path of the steam as it boils (takes forever our kettle, I could read War & Peace AND watch Broke Back Mountain and it'd still be on the warming up stage) there is a spider just to the side of the spot the steam hits. Again, not an obvious location. What's it doing there? Is it waiting for me to be hungover again and then fall happily onto my nose? Bastardo.
Outside the front door there is a whoppa who each night weaves a complicated and probably quite beautiful web which I put my head through every morning (well, for the last two mornings when I've been first up & out of the house, Mol appears to be below web-level so doesn't get that clingy stringy thurpy ug ug stuff in her face). Gross.
And then just today, as I was doing my wonderful tweeing-up of the garden it was a constant stream of hurl-inducing-webs - on my legs/arms/head/hair, even my eye-lashes (so long and lustrous are they). As I climbed the ladder to chop a very spiky bit of neighbours hawthorn (SUCH an antisocial bloody thorny bush to plant) I saw a seriously ugly spider, well, more ugly than the rest, in that it was greeny-transparenty-long-leggedy-grosso-ey make-me-slightly-screech/wretch at the same-time-y. Of course I wasn't physically vomiting and I didn't kill it but my natural reaction was to kind of flick it with a very globby paint brush.
And then the man in the cloak on my roof waved his cythe at me and his crow delivered a message in its croaky voice: do not interfere with even the ugliest of spiders, great strife will fall upon your shoulders. I'm like shit. But yeah, like, its well ugly and its on my ladder and for god-sake I'm imagining that Death is sitting on my roof so I really suspect great strife has befallen me deja, ya?
And now, after freaking myself out with my strange ramblings, I am actually quite looking forward to Husband returning tomorrow.