Wait, -t. Some roaches fly? In America?

Hugs New England very, very tightly.

it's bad luck to kill a Lady Bug. If you kill a spider, it rains.

That is a set of consequences I can deal with.

I KNOW that the spiders keep track of who kills them and who doesn't, and are planning their revenge.

Oh, god. In that case, I'm probably doomed from childhood, when I pulled the legs off Daddy Long Legs. (Not regularly or anything, but, um, I was small and so were they.)

(And I know DLL's aren't spiders, but it probably counts toward the same cosmic account.)

Some roaches fly? In America?

It's the price you pay for the tropics. Worth it, pretty much.

Wait, -t. Some roaches fly? In America?

Palmetto bugs. They are tres nasty.

When they're inside and bapping against the light or the wall and disturbing my reading? I'm taking that moth out.

(Except not actually, like the guy mentioned above. However, given the ookyness and smudges on the wall from a squised moth, I can understand the impulse.)

t peeks in. still about spiders. ducks out.

There was a spider egg on the ceiling I'd overlooked in cleaning. It had hatched, and there were dozens of tiny paratroopers rapelling down from the ceiling.

This morning, I carried my half full mug of cold tea into the kitchen, taking a sip somewhere along the way. (I know, I'm gross.) I set it down, turned back to pick it up and empty it out and THERE WAS A SPIDER INSIDE IT. A big-ass one, too. Full grown, not a baby. All gray and with many legs.... faints momentarily

How long it was there, I don't know, but unless it kamikazied into my mug in the split second between setting it down and turning back to it, it was there when I sipped at it in blind gronkiness. The idea of my lips nearly brushing spider legs/torso/head this morning has stayed with me all day.

never stops screaming...in my head

I will remember all this at the end of next winter, when I am sick to death of snow.

Oh, don't get me started on killing ladybugs. You kill a ladybug, you might just as well march right out and lie down in traffic.

I wish I could magically transfuse some of my not-fear into Jilli and Jessica and connie. Spiders ick me somewhat, but when I remind myself that they don't suck my blood, they don't fly, they especially don't delight in flying straight from wallowing in a pile of steamy dog shit to my picnic table or kitchen counter, and they in fact eat the bloodsuckers and shit-wallowers, I feel a sort of unwilling gratitude for their existence.

Wait, -t. Some roaches fly? In America?

Yes. It's a horrible horrible perversion of nature that should be stopped. They call them "water bugs", but they're roaches all right.

Some hair just fell on my face and I just about jumped out of my skin flinching. Thank god it's almost time to go home.

(Oh no, AmyLiz, aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)