in honor of our eightlegged overlord and my husband’s gentle ways, i ain’t killin’ as many spiders as i could.  our house has long-bodied cellar spiders living under every houseplant, wolf spiders of some sort living in all the walls, dropping into light fixtures where they can starve to death.  weird black spiders that like to hang out where the wall meets the ceiling roughly two feet from the nearest door.  a spider smaller than a sesame seed that hangs out on the houseplants over the sink.

who are all these motherfuckers?  i dunno.  just found out the name of long-bodied cellar spiders a few weeks ago and am writing this post to commemorate.

those last guys, they make very stereotypical webs, and are fairly persistent at it.  i didn’t know who was making the webs under the little tables that hold various houseplants, but one day i saw a tiny bodied guy with insanely long limbs wobblin around in the shadows there, weaving.

the spider from that area was pretty industrious because we kept accidentally knocking down this runner he’d sent out to a plant light that’s clamped to the coffee table, and he’d rebuild it overnight.  eventually, he didn’t bother to build it as high, and at last, gave up on rebuilding altogether.  slacker.

or maybe they have very short life expectancies.  i’m a not spider expert.

i admit, i kill some of the wolf spiders.  if you’re giant and running fast, you’re freaking me out too much.  you gotta go, bro.  hey, if it managed to get that big after a lifetime of cannibalism and hustling buggies, it’s probably ready to retire to the big web in the sky.

this is a greater than reasonable mercy i’m showing them, given that one literally dropped on my head around the time we were moving in.  i should be on a vendetta.  count your arachneed stars.

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why are all spiders guys and bros?  not very gq of me.  whatever.