I have found my place in the world. I am filling the job that no one wants, and no one will thank me for it. Unless someone steps forward and says “Hey, that’s been my job for years!”, then it will just be me.
At least 4 times a week I am walking into some form of spider web. I only work 5 minutes a week, and I get no pay.
For reals though. I like the outdoors. It happens on the trails I go to. Parks. This house, that house. I can’t get away.
Some part of my body– usually my goddamn face– touches a motherfucking spider web almost every day. Today I was just walking to my fucking home door. My home, bitch! Tell me spider, with your tiny tiny brain, why do your whole web building thing all night, jumping 10 feet back and forth to build a giant web across heavily traveled areas?! And when I break your shit up one day, you fucking do it again. You work all night with your craftsmanship.
And the feeling drives me up the goddamn wall. “Is there a fucking spider on me?!” is what’s running through my mind as I am frantically swiping my skin and head. It feels like it is never really off me, and I might have a hop-on.
You are welcome, America. I am demolishing spider webs for you, if only temporarily, with my face. I have the greater northwest covered.
And spiders,
I will fucking murder all of you. Destroy your homes, and burn your little childrens. It is on.
Um Kevin,
This is your best blog entry by far. So well written. You had a girl I work with giggling in her cube.