I am freaking out. Seriously. FREAKING. OUT.
There I was, peacefully sitting on the couch, surfing the web, looking for corner desks to go in the office so that, someday, that room can be used for something other than file storage, when HC started nagging me about the second bedroom.
Because of a fight I lost the day we moved into this house – a fight that I didn’t even realize was happening because my mother and aunt, who very nicely agreed to come to the nation’s capital to help me move in, had already made the decision without consulting me – Hal’s clothes went in our bedroom closet and mine were relegated to the second bedroom’s closet.
If you’re wondering, my mother and aunt explained it to me this way:
Aunt: Hal’s got all his suits.
Mom, quickly and cutting Aunt off: And those shoes! I’ve never seen a man with so many shoes. G-d, and they’re so big. You could kill a person with those shoes.
Aunt: His stuff needs to be in this closet. He’ll only annoy you about it later. You can have the two big closets in the second bedroom.
Me: What? That’s bullshit.
Mom: Now that room is yours. Trust me, it’s a better deal. You’ll see.
While I was annoyed with this decision for a long time, Hal was present when the conversation was happening and grabbed onto their loopy rationale. The decision was made. I had to cut my losses and learn to be okay with having my stuff split between two rooms. I’m still not okay with it, btw. But I make due.
Anyway, what’s nice is that, usually, HC ignores that second bedroom, rarely commenting on how it looks and how neat it is. Our bedroom, on the other hand, which is where all of HC’s closes pile up, gets constant scrutiny from me. Okay, maybe this is an okay deal.
This morning, however, for reasons that I won’t go into other than to say that he used AM to make a point, HC made some comments about the unkempt-ness of the second bedroom.
Let’s go back for a second. I’ve been out of town a lot lately, living out of a suitcase in a way reminiscent of a vagabond. That’s a longer story, but suffice it to say that I had some family matters to attend to over the last few months which brought me to NJ, like, A LOT – AND – because my brother and parents hate me and want to make sure I know it, my brother got my parents those cats, which my parents love more than me or my brother, which I am highly allergic to, precludes me from spending more than 20 minutes in my parents house – my childhood home, if you will – let alone spending the night.
Wow… anyway… I still haven’t totally unpacked myself from that trip. Instead, my stuff and HC’s bag are just laid out all over the bed in the second bedroom. Normally, I would have gotten to this already. But I have been so sick lately that the idea of doing anything that doesn’t involve my couch and TV remote are simply off the table. So there the room sits, with our stuff strewn about, going on two weeks now.
Fine. I should deal with it. I know that. But I want to vomit all over the place, so I figured I’d ignore it further. Then HC starts in with his AM nonsense and how she’s coming over for dinner tonight and we never tidy up for her and that’s rude and blah blah blah. Whatever. What HC doesn’t realize is that, by NOT cleaning up – yes, you got that right, by NOT cleaning up – before AM comes over, I’m actually showing her the highest for of compliment and closeness. Basically, it means: Honey, you’ve seen it all.
But fine. I should deal with it. And AM is coming over tonight. So fine.
I headed up in the bedroom and surveyed the area. Not that bad, really. Shouldn’t take too long. Then I looked out the window and saw it:
OH. MY. FUCKING. CHRIST. You’ve got to be kidding me. This thing is fucking HUGE! Seriously, I’ve never seen a spider this large in real life before. Yes, there are bigger spiders in the world. You know, on TV. On the Discovery Channel. But this thing is gigantic.
Once I caught my breath, I confirmed that it was, indeed, outside the window. Oh, thank G-d. But it was still there. Just sitting there in it’s largess. I quickly walked into the hallway.
“HC!… HC! Can you come here for a minute? I need you to look at something.”
HC gave a big sigh to indicate his irritation that I had interrupted his private i-Pod listening session about how the glaciers are melting or how the penguins need saving or whatever and headed upstairs.
“HC, can you please go in there and look at the window?”
HC shuffled over to the window, still irritated that he was not lost in his climate change world, looked out the window and our convo went sorta this way:
HC: Whoa… Cool.
My face, What the fuck?
HC: Wow. That guy’s big, huh?
Me, in my head to myself, but no audio is working yet: Big? It might be a tarantula. We have a fucking tarantula a outside our fucking window.
HC, in amazement: Did you see that web?! Man, that’s like a Spider-Man web! That’s awesome.
Me, finally able to speak out loud: What? No, I did not look at the fucking web. I can’t get past how fucking big that guy is.
HC, still mesmerized: That’s pretty cool.
Me: HC, I’m going to throw up. Seriously. I may start crying. (And almost on cue, the tears started.)
HC, not noticing the tears or taking my anxiety attack seriously: Well, it’s not poisonous.
Me, internally again: How the fuck do you know if it’s poisonous?!
HC, finally noticing that I’m melting down a la the Wicked Witch of the West: Casey, it’s fine. It’s outside. There’s a window there. It can’t open the window.
Me: I know it can’t open the fucking window. Okay, I know that.
HC: Put a sheet over the window.
HC starts fumbling with some pillow covers, and I say: Wait, not those. They’re clean. (What the fuck am I talking about?!)
Me: I can’t deal with this right now. I have to go downstairs.
HC: Okay, it’s okay.
I immediately proceeded downstairs and begin this post. HC came down a few minutes later and said that he had covered the window, “So, you see, it’s gone.”
Gone? GONE?! Does he think I’m five fucking years old? I know it’s still there, HC. I know that you did nothing to protect us from this prehistoric killer. I know I can’t do anything about it, because it’s just too big. But we may have to move.
Perhaps it’s apropos that I saw this prehistoric killer on Halloween morning. But I don’t like it. Not one bit. And I may never go in that room again. Ever.