Saturday morning, I woke up bright & early (and feeling pretty proud of my brew-fest moderation) to go to the dentist. Now, I loved the dentist. I loved my every six month checkups & cleanings (and would have gone once a month for cleanings had my insurance allowed it).
Everything seemed to go along swimmingly. I saw the new dentist that had just joined the practice – and when he looked at my teeth, he complimented them. He did his exam, and then tapped again on one tooth, “Does this hurt?”
I said no, in that way one does when someone else’s hands are in your mouth.
“Hmmm….” he said. And then told the hygeniest that I have a cavity on tooth 18.
At this point, I may have gotten a little concerned. In fact, there may have been a few tears when the words “filling” and “drill” were thrown out.
So – at the tender young age of 32, I have my first cavity. The dentist rushed to reassure me – it’s not my fault, I didn’t do anything wrong, there won’t even have to be any novacaine – it’s just a tiny, tiny surface cavity. You won’t be able to see the filling and no one will ever have to know. (Except for the internets, of course.)
So, I have an appointment for my filling, which they assured me is no big deal. I did not get a lot of sympathy from the architect who had root canals and crowns and other exciting things done to him in January.
ANYWAYS, I was driving home (instead of to the gym, because obviously I was too traumatized to swim) and I stopped for a coffee & breakfast at a place I have always wanted to stop. I ordered this savory croissant thingy and a 16 oz non-fat vanilla latte. They gave me a 12 oz iced latte with no vanilla. I just wanted to leave, so I took it, although I did get some vanilla added to it.
Then, I stopped at a yard sale & scored 4 outdoor chairs for $4 (bonus – they’re red & green, so will be perfect for my outdoor Christmas party) and then proceeded home. About 1 mile from home, I saw a movement out of the corner of my left eye. On the window (inside) was this spider (do not click if you have a spider issue – not for faint of heart – I almost passed out trying to find this picture).
So, I did what any sensible arachnaphobe would do – I rolled down the window & shrieked, “Get out of my car *bad word*.”
Apparently that is no way to speak to an agent of Satan. Instead of getting out of my car, it fell on my lap. I pulled over (after doing the fastest bicyclist check ever) and used a notebook to attempt to fling the spider out of my now-open car door. I may have still been yelling obscenities at Lucifer’s minion. The spider fell onto my foot. I hopped out of the car (which is still running) and proceeded to yell at the ambassador of Apollyon (which either amused or frightened the large groups of bicyclists who rode by at just the right time) until he showed his eyes. I scooped him up (still with notebook) and flung him into the street. I did some deep breathing exercises & got back in my car. I kept feeling like there were spiders on my feet, but when I would check (which I did approximately 5,000 times in that last mile), there weren’t.
Later, I was relating that story to the architect while we were driving between nurseries (and I was still feeling all creepy crawly), and I looked down to check (again) and there was a SPIDER ON MY FOOT. I killed it dead (it was a bit smaller than Beelzebub’s broker). Later, in the garden, a largish garden spider jumped out at me from the lettuce (seriously – do not click that link).
And then, a bit later still, when I went to put on a pair of shoes, there was a spider IN MY SHOE. The next morning, I woke up with spider bites on my neck.
The next night, I went to the bedroom, prepared for a peaceful slumber, and there, above my pillow, was a common house spider. And again, the next morning – another one was waiting for me in the bathroom.
This morning, I walked into a spider web on my way out of the house.
Obviously there is something going on. Something bad. If I disappear, I just want you to know – the spiders got me.
