I have astigmatism. This means that I can see, but everything is a little…off. It’s not Monet’s level of astigmatism, but it’s such that everyone looks a little blurred. And prettier/more handsome than they might think they are.
Because I can see more or less (and also because they are annoying), as a general rule, I don’t wear my glasses around the house. Particularly since I’ve discovered that putting them on makes my house dirty. (I’m not sure how that works.)
So, in essence, I wander through life thinking everyone is attractive and my house is clean.
Which brings me to this morning.
I wandered into the bathroom as one is want to do…did my thing…stood up, turned around to flush the toilet, and saw an enormous spider.
Spiders don’t bother me.
But this was an exceptionally, large, fat spider and I didn’t think he needed to live in my bathroom. Particularly by the toilet where he might decide to crawl up my leg.
I reached out my beslippered foot to delicately crush it.
And the damned thing LEAPT up in the air.
This caused me to yell somewhat weakly “Will.”
He didn’t hear me. I don’t know how he managed that…so I leaned around the corner and tried again.
WILL!!!!!!
He stopped reading and looked at me.
I said, “There’s a giant, leaping spider in the bathroom.”
He said, “And?”
I said, “I want you to come kill it.”
He put his book down, shoved the dog out of his way, and grabbed a cup and a piece of paper (because he is less inclined to crush the innocent than I am), and came to see exactly what was going on. Stark naked, mind you, because he was about to shower.
Meanwhile,, while waiting for him, I stood in the bathroom, herding the leaping spider. Just as Will walked in, it leapt beneath the vanity.
Will looked at me.
“That’s your spider?”
“Yes, it’s HUGE – and did you see it leap? What the hell kind of a spider leaps? Do you think it’s the mountain air that causes the leaping? We never had leaping spiders in Louisiana. What the hell is wrong with this place? We might have to move.”
I may have said this as one sentence.
He stood there, stark naked, with a sad look on his face.
“Andy.”
“Yes?”
“That’s not a spider. It’s a cricket. It’s not leaping at you. It is jumping to get away from you. That’s what crickets do. They jump.” He sighed somewhat dramatically and bent down to capture the cricket.
I confess I was rather deflated by this bit of news and, as I watched him coax the now-compliant cricket into the cup, I vowed to wear my glasses more often.
Because I learned a lesson this morning.
Not only do I not want to see a leaping spider first thing in the morning (cricket, whatever)…I also don’t really need to see Will, stark naked, crawling around on the bathroom floor as he wrestles a leaping spider (again, cricket, whatever) into submission.
Some things cannot be unseen.
Until next time….cheers.
