Friday, August 19, 2005


Bugger, damn and arse.

Wookiee’s been abroad all week on business again. He was supposed to be flying back yesterday to spend one night at home before running away for the weekend with his brother (A) to escape all the mad stitchers who will be descending upon the house.

But late yesterday afternoon I got a call from him. They’d missed their flight home… the last flight back to the UK that day… $@%@$

Since he was planning on leaveing for his trip with A straight from work today, it now means he’ll have to leave work really really early (not a problem given the overtime he’s pulled while away) to get home, to pack his bags for the weekend and then head back to town again to meet A. He’ll be back on Sunday night.

But then to cap it call, they (the miserable fekkers) are sending him back overseas again next week, Tuesday to Friday. If it’s like this week they’ll actually fly out on Monday evening which means I see him for Sunday night and that’ll be it until next weekend.


It doesn’t help that the local spider population seem to have been spying on the house and know he’s away. They’ve been sending many of their number in to terrorise me. Never before have I seen so many of the big hairy monsters in the house in such a short space of time. This week alone I’ve had to deal with about seven of them. Not small ones either, oh no, I had one in the lounge the other day that was 3” across. I’ve started referring to them as Shelob or Aragog *whimper*

Unfortunately for them, I lived on my own for 3 years, so I’ve become a bit of an expert at dealing with them from a distance. My apologies to all you spider lovers out there, or people who feel that they shouldn’t be killed, but if one of them comes in my house and I see it, IT DIES!

So I have a BIIIIIG can of this stuff in my house and I practically drown the buggers in it, it takes that much to slow the really big ones down to the point that I can hit them with the hammer. Ah if only the neighbours could see me, standing over this tiny (compared to me) crawly thing with a look of part terror part glee as I attack it with a large can of bug spray and then smack it a few times with a normal domestic hammer, you know, the sort you use for putting picture hooks up. I have been known to chant DIE! DIE! DIE! as I’m spraying and hammering.

Crazy? Me? Nooooooooooo