It’s been several months since I’ve had a spider in my apartment, and so I knew it was only a matter of time before another encounter.  I’ve been having horrible dreams about spiders, and I had a feeling there would be one any day now.  My apartment is a mess.  There’s no way I could be so lucky to go this long without an attack.

I came inside from doing the shopping and just as I closed the door behind me, a huge motherfucking spider comes straight down from the ceiling on a thread, wiggling its disgusting legs menacingly.  Hideous and black.  ‘OH FUCK,’ I yell to the people in the hallway.  ‘OH FUCK!’ I yell to myself as it soars down the side of the door.

Thank god I hadn’t taken my runners off yet and was able to kick it with my foot.  It hit the floor and wiggled and I hit it again so it was dead.  I then moved away and slumped down on the floor, panting as though I’d run a marathon.  Living at home meant I could scream for someone else to rid them for me, but being alone means I’m pretty much screwed in terms of getting help with my fear.  Either I kill it, or it wins.  Fucking cocksucker of a spider.  Black and horrible and omfg it was horrible.  The size of a loonie, I swear.  Augh, now I’m all jittery!

I can’t believe people go out of their way to save these things.

My apartment is a huge mess and has been for months. I am finally ‘in the groove’ to clean it up, and I’m SO EXCITED.

Anybody who knows me knows I caught this horrible thing from my dad called tolerance for squalour. I’m not as bad as my dad, as his squalour often involved bogey rags and old food. My squalour is clean squalor, where it’s really just clutter. Clutter that eats everything alive, that is. It’s pretty embarrassing, but I let it slide because I know that one day, the groove will kick in.

What is the groove? The groove is this stroke of inspiration that hits me every few months, and has done so for my entire life. I’ll be sitting around, minding my own when I suddenly realise, god, this mess is annoying. I begin to squirm and I begin to twitch and I don’t stop until everything is clean. I throw away mountains of garbage and things I don’t need. I organise drawers. I make my life liveable.  If the groove doesn’t hit me for an extended period of time, I get very depressed and must change something.  Ultimately, that’s why I moved out.  I hadn’t cleaned my bedroom in ages.

Why I can’t make myself do this on command is beyond me, but I’m glad my mother put up with it. Right now, it’s hit me, and I want nothing more than to dive into my living room and CLEAN IT UP. I’m going to take before and after photos. this is it: The Big Clean.

If you know me really well, you’ll know that I can’t stop myself when the groove hits. Even if I’m at somebody else’s house, I’ll clean their bedroom or wash their dishes. At work I’d clean places that hadn’t been cleaned in years, or organise a shelf to no end. Hell, I still go in there and do it sometimes.

Jenine is coming over tomorrow night, so I’m happy I’ll be able to have a seat for her on the couch. I just wish it wasn’t always 11:30 PM when this sort of thing strikes.