It’s not you, it’s me. Really. Now would you just listen? Don’t get all pouty on me. Don’t go ducking into your little nest where I can’t see you. You know that freaks me out. Come out here and look at me when I’m talking to you. Dammit.
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I know we’ve been living together for awhile now. OK, actually I didn’t know that until yesterday when I discovered your elaborate nest all throughout the mini-blinds. But obviously you are now well-established in my apartment. Unbeknownst to me, we’ve shared some good times… I’ll admit it does comfort me to know that when I was rolling on the floor with laughter watching the blooper reel from The Office I was not alone. And all those times I had just a tiny drink… you were there! Surely you’ve enjoyed my penchant for pantslessness and I hope you had fun watching me clean house to The Faint. All in all, you’ve been a very reasonable housemate and I thank you for that.
But I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I know, I know… this catches you off guard. I know it’s a bad time for you, with the outside getting a little chilly at night. I’m sorry, I really am. But this has got to stop. Sure, I looked the other way when your little friends started coming over to stay. But when I would turn on the light in the middle of the night to find them sprawled on my kitchen floor… that’s just not cool. Maybe they’re fine upstanding spiders. Maybe they keep a clean web and don’t mean any harm. But I don’t know them. What if they start coming into my room at night? Jesus H. I don’t even want to think about it. So I’ve had to put my foot down. Not literally. Don’t freak out on me, now. You know I wouldn’t do that. But I’ve been politely escorting them from the premises. For awhile I almost considered letting you stay. I don’t use the room. We could co-exist peaceably – as long as you stayed away from my Newcastle. But I’ve got a new roommate moving in and I’m pretty sure she’s not going to want a strange spider living in her room. And believe me, I know the first place you’d head if she kicked you out. Don’t even think about it. I’m not that kind of girl.
Argh. You men are all alike. (To be fair, I’m not really sure that you’re a male. But really, in my mind all spiders are male—even the ones lugging around the egg sacks. They’re just being helpful and taking the kids out to give the mythical female spider some time to herself.) I’d prefer if we can handle this like two civilized beings. Also, you are extremely large, and I’m not sure I could get you in the tupperware before you escaped into the fortress you have built for yourself. There is long list of things I would rather do than poke around in a spider nest for a huge fucking spider.
I really hope that we can be friends after all this. Honestly. I care about you. (And I don’t want you sending your little friends around to harass me.) But friends don’t live in my mini-blinds. So please, you know where the door is. Just… go.