Along Came a Spider

Giant spider. 
Sleepless night.
From 10 to 7
I kept on the light.

Let's start at the beginning. I'd just returned from an exhausting day of group therapy (don't ask) and decided to take a nap. For context, I'm in Australia, living in a so-called "granny flat" in someone's backyard. So I turned out the lights, set a timer, and went unconscious. I reset the one-hour timer twice for a total of two hours. Like I said, I was exhausted.

The bed didn't help things. It's extremely broken down on one side, so I have to sleep with my head down at the foot of my bed to mitigate the feeling of sleeping on a hill. Not to mention the fact that it's criminally hard and also somehow lumpy.

Upon waking, the half-light revealed the wall adjacent the bed headboard, in which direction I was facing. And upon the wall, an eight-legged shape materialized through my groggy, day-napping vision like a specter through a veil of mist.

You have no idea how much I've dreaded the onset of the warm weather. It's just going into summer here, as I'm in the South-Eastern Hemisphere. Australians like to gleefully point out to tourists that's when all the creepy-crawlies come out to play. (They're cheeky, Australians. They'll also tell you one about the notorious "drop bears" if you don't watch out.)

I've spent hours googling methods of sending spiders packing. Better yet, not inviting them in in the first place. I have reasonable cause - I mean, I'm living in a place where basically every living creature wants to kill me. Best I could figure, mint essential oil, apple cider vinegar, and water in a spray bottle was my most cost-effective option.

Like an OCD maniac, I couldn't rest until I'd spritzed down my entire living area. Every single day. Multiple times a day. It may have been that the ritual comforted me, because at least I was doing something, rather than waiting passively for the spider epidemic to end me.

I may have forgotten to spritz down the living area on the day in question, due to a combination of exhaustion and being gone all day. Understandable.

I got up, probably looking more like someone about to face their literal doom than a spider, making slow, wary movements as I tried to get a closer look without getting too close. The spider remained perfectly still, probably eye-balling me with equal caution. It was a terrifying standoff. Neither of us seemed to want to make a move.

I didn't know what to do. I stood there for a remarkably long time thinking it over. I took a photo of my spider intruder, maybe so my family would have evidence of my killer in the event things went ill. The spider patiently watched me be indecisive.

Finally, I began pacing around the room looking for a weapon. A fly swatter or nuclear missile would have been ideal. But I didn't have either, and couldn't get them any time soon.

In the end, I decided to try using the bottom of a jar to smash the spider. That worked about as well as if I'd politely asked the spider to leave. Which is to say, not at all. Unless, of course, my objective was to have the giant spider jump toward me, no doubt laughing to itself, and proceed to crawl under my bed.

I may need trauma counseling.

Now the spider was decidedly out of reach. Lurking beneath the bed, it was waiting for me to turn out the lights and go to sleep so it could crawl up my duvet and sink its fangs into my unwary flesh. I was convinced of it, as I'm sure any reasonable arachnaphobe would be.

Few options met my desperate mind. Tearing apart the room in search of the spider didn't seem viable. My two-hour nap hadn't done much to remedy my exhaustion, and tearing apart rooms requires energy. Psyching myself out all night didn't seem like a particularly great option either, but under the circumstances, I didn't see an alternative.

I spent a couple hours googling, trying to see what other people had done in my situation, besides staying up all night crying, or burning down their houses. This led to my go-to comfort, distraction. Soon, I found myself watching YouTube videos about the Cambodians and their deep-fried tarantulas.

At length (roughly 2 AM), I became too exhausted to care any more. I decided to leave the floor lamp in the room on, in case that deterred my arachnid guest from coming to snuggle. Wishful thinking. Dreaming of creepy crawlies and many-legged terrors, I drifted into fretful unconsciousness. (More like, struggled, sinking in quicksand-style. "Drifted" sounds too peaceful.)

Upon waking, I was shocked to find no further evidence of arachnid activity. Against all odds, I had survived! The spider might have been dancing a jig on me in the night for all I knew. It might've invited all its spider friends and acquaintances to join in, and had a massive dance party on my reposing form, laughing all the while at its victory over the "crazy yank." (It's an Australian spider, so no doubt it also has the accent.) Whatever the case, I'd rather remain in the dark. 

It's a bit early to celebrate, though. Summer has only just begun. 26 days to go until I flee back to the United States, and the spider-free refuge of winter, leaving the Australians to have all the spidery fun.         

NaNoWriMo

It's National November Writing Month.

I've "won" (completed the 50k word count) in previous years, though last year was crazy busy and I only managed about 30k. The novel was set in the futuristic past and may or may not have involved a portal between pre-history and now, a Mr. Darcy-esque love interest, and houses with roof tiles that were solar panels in disguise. (Side note: few things annoy me more than little bugs flying in front of my computer screen while I'm typing. *swats at little bugs doing precisely that*) 

This year, as I'm currently enrolled in a film school in Australia, I've decided to attempt a screenplay instead. Possibly two.

Next semester I'll be making a short film based on a screenplay I've written (pending approval from Australia's film teacher equivalent of Severus Snape). I'm attempting a narrative based on the American Civil War, but set in a fantasy world akin to Tolkien's Middle-earth. I am confident that, whatever form my screenplay eventually takes, it will at least be a more interesting film to make than the three or four I've had to participate in recently, which involved drugs in the park, an eco-terrorist, and a gay couple interrogating each other over the breaking of a vase from Kmart. 

However, this particular screenplay has nothing to do with the one I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. For the aforementioned event, I'll be attempting a screenplay for a full length feature film. Not that it will ever be made, but a girl can dream.

I'll be writing a smaller amount per day than I would if I were attempting a novel, owing to the relative brevity of a screenplay, but this is better for me, schedule-wise. Updates may or may not follow. (I make no promises.)