An open letter to my bathroom spider

IMG_0944Dear Mr. Spider – and applicable friends and relatives,

It’s so lovely to see that you’ve moved back in. And by lovely, I mean truly distressing.

I know it’s been a year and you’re wanting to get settled in, but I think we should make some additions to our previous contract / informal agreement (the original is available here). In case you’re thinking you can push me around this year, you can’t. I have killed two of your acquaintances in the last year and I am stronger for it (if not weaker mentally and damaged psychologically).

That’s said, please take a moment to read my new stipulations:

  1. Keep off the toilet paper – I know my bathroom is essentially the coolest hangout in town, but sitting on the toilet paper is a no-go. Tell your friends. Tell ‘em quick. Next time I’m going to flush the whole roll without giving you an eviction notice.
  2. No house guests – I feel like we’ve been over this one before. I promise not to invite in anyone who may be handier with a rolled magazine than I am if you promise not to invite anyone, ever. I don’t want any all-nighters going down in here, especially not when I have to shower.
  3. Less domestic violence – It is my sincerest request that you not attack and eat your relatives while I’m IN THE BATHROOM. I understand that every family has issues and I appreciate that there are a lot fewer of you after a ‘family spat’ but I do not want to see it happening. Like, leave a sign on the door or something. When I step into that room you guys better call a cease fire immediately. I AM SWITZERLAND.
  4. Weight gain – K, this is a little awkward and I don’t mean to be offensive, but I’ve noticed you’ve grown a few pant sizes since like… this morning. No, I getchu bae. I’ve been putting on a little poundage too. It’s that time of year or whatever. Anyway, what concerns me is the process it must have taken for you to ‘freshman 15’ so quickly. I am saddened when I think of how many of your relatives you must have eaten and I am terrified when I think of how many of my relatives you probably could eat now. Just, keep an eye on the scale, okay Hun?
  5. Joe must go – Effective immediately, you must tell your friend Joe to leave. Who’s Joe? Don’t play dumb with me! He’s your pal who’s been living on my shower head for the last four days! He’s twice the size of my thumb and I’m pretty sure he has more than eight legs. Please see #4.

I appreciate your consideration of these new amendments and I assume that you’ll be following this strictly and without exception.

As always, it’s a pleasure attempting to communicate with you. Hopefully we’ll make it past October before one of us has a total meltdown (and by ‘one of us’ I obviously mean me).

With reservations,

Mary

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There were stars

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I think two things.

One, I don’t think I say often enough on this blog thingy of mine just how incredibly blessed I am. I tend to post about life’s trials (which tend to be not much more than a spider in the bathroom or falling down the occasional escalator). But I want the record to show that I have been given much to be grateful for. So, so much.

Two. This one is important. (They’re both important, but this one is the relatable one). I don’t think we notice how fleeting moments are, and how precious are those which hold on to some wisp of permanence in our memories.

And I think one and two are connected. But to prove this, I have to tell you a story.

It’s a story about stars and people who shine like them. It’s a story about an unfortunate situation. It’s kind of a story about Jared and I having one last grand adventure. But mostly it’s a story about moments. Continue reading