Hey, Spiders Get Thirsty Too!

Image courtesy Sarah Dluogs via Flickr

Image courtesy Sarah Dluogs via Flickr

What’s that over there? On my nightstand. There’s something crawling. A creepy, crawling something. I toss my book to the side and leap out of bed. It’s a pincher bug, also known as an earwig. Yuck! For whatever reason these bugs really creep me out. I mean what are those pincher things on its behind for?

I scoop it up, throw it outside, and get back in bed. I try to forget about it, but my gaze keeps shifting from my book to the nightstand. Are there more? Where are they coming from? Why do these bugs keep bugging me?

The week prior, I awoke to the sensation of something crawling down my arm. Ew. I brushed it to the floor and went back to bed. I mean bugs are just a part of life, right? I drifted back to sleep, not thinking twice about my multi-legged visitor.

Two nights later, as the sun was rising, I felt it again–a bug crawling up my arm. My eyes popped open and I caught the offender. It was another pincher bug. I flicked it to the floor before it could crawl under my hoodie or make a dash for my ear canal. Next to me, my husband was un-phased. I swear they were just targeting me.

As bedtime grew near the following night, I wondered what awaited me. Was the earwig still scurrying around my side of the bed? And what did he want? Could I bargain with him? Was he reasonable?

I picked up my book and started to lose myself in the fictional world of wizards and warlocks. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. There was something crawling on my nightstand. I expected to see the earwig, but instead found a spider.

Image courtesy of Jonathan Vail via Flickr.

OMG!! He looked just like this!
(Image courtesy of Jonathan Vail via Flickr)

Image courtesy of Sean MacEntee via Flickr

I’m just kidding. He looked more like this.
(Image courtesy of Sean MacEntee via Flickr)

He evaded my attempts at capture and hid under the cord of my lamp. Fine. I’ll keep reading my book.

And that’s what I did, with frequent (we’ll say every thirty seconds) turns of my head to monitor his whereabouts. On my sixth or seventh turn I lost him. I frantically searched the area and was about to give up when I saw him IN MY GLASS OF WATER. He had crawled almost halfway down, to the edge of the water. His front legs were splayed wide so that his face was just touching the surface. The arachnid was drinking my water. I swear. I blinked a few times and tilted my head to get a better view. Now I could see the surface of the water was moving. I assume from his… mouth? Tongue? I don’t know, I just know he was lapping up water.

Of course, I didn’t have my camera ready, so I’ve gone ahead and recreated the scene for you:

So, this is what my glass of water looked like.

A glass of water.

Image courtesy of Sean MacEntee via Flickr

Plus Mr. Spidey.
(Image courtesy of Sean MacEntee via Flickr)

Use your imagination here.

Looked just like this when he was drinking. Okay, okay, you have to use your imagination–it was the best I could do.

When he was finished, he nonchalantly turned around and crawled out of the glass. I tried to catch him, but he eluded me again, crawling behind the nightstand and into the dark, dust bunny filled world that I never see.

The next morning I Googled “spiders drinking water” to confirm that I wasn’t crazy. And yes, they do drink water. Then, I began to contemplate just how many times he had visited. Was he a regular? Did he and the pincher bug meet there often? Should I start charging by the sip or begin taking reservations?

Okay, so that was four nights in a two week timeframe where bugs lurked on my side of the bed.

I concluded it could be interpreted in two ways.

1. Like a dream, where bugs mean something is bugging you. Maybe I was worried about quitting my job and all of those anxieties were bugging me.

2. It had been really dry lately, so the bugs were just looking for a place to quench their thirst.

I decided to focus on number two. I removed the old water glasses that usually lingered on the nightstand and wiped away any condensation. When I got in bed that night I set a small paperback on top of my glass and slept easy. And guess what?? It seems to have worked. No creepy, crawly visitors since!

And if you want another side-splitting spider story check out The Library Lady and Rosie Bear’s post Night of the Tarantula

The Results Show: Am I a kale hating, rifle shooting, former turtle owner?

Image courtesy Julian Gong Min via Flickr

Image courtesy Julian Gong Min via Flickr

And now for the big reveal… Do I hate kale? Am a stealthy marksman? Did I once have a pet turtle named, George?

Get ready, here are my five fake facts:

1. I hate kale – I can’t say that it’s my favorite food in the world (homemade bread is, no I think it’s chips and guacamole, I don’t know… who really has a favorite?) but I do really like it.

4. My first concert was Madonna – I did want to see Madonna when I was younger, but she wouldn’t come to Denver, CO… My first concert was George Michael.

5. I had a pet turtle when I was eight – My cousin had a pet turtle. I had two parakeets: Sweetie and Flower and my cat: Slinky Salad Pebbles Flintstone.

8. I’ve intubated a patient – I am a registered nurse and I’ve taken advanced CPR. I’ve even intubated a mannequin. Luckily no humans have had to endure me inserting a tube down their windpipe–I may have cracked my mannequin’s tooth. Oops.

14. I dressed as a mermaid for Mardi Gras last year – I’ve never been a mermaid (still trying to figure out how you would walk around all day). Last year I was Cinderella and the year before I was Alice in Wonderland.

My take on Alice and the White Rabbit. I even made the hats!

My take on Alice and the White Rabbit. I even made the hats!

So, there you have it. All the other things were true.

Thanks to all who participated and ventured a guess: M.C. Dulac, Decidinglybob and Fruit and Family. I wish I could say the winner got something really cool… um, let me think, I have a cat that’s been really needy lately. Or, how about an old organic chem book. No, neither of those will do. Let’s say bragging rights. Yes, bragging rights it is. Oh, yeah. I think Natalie at Fruit and Family won. Congratulations!

Libby’s post – I can’t believe I’m telling you this

Image courtesy Richard Hurd via Flickr

Ew! Frat guys can be so icky.                                          (Image courtesy Richard Hurd via Flickr)

I have a confession. A big one. Like huge. And you’ll probably never think of me the same and I don’t blame you. And maybe I don’t care. But I have to tell someone what I did.

That guy. The one on Nerdo Vamp’s website. I left him for dead. There he was flat on the ground, blood seeping from his nose, and I walked away. Worse, I shouted, “Loser,” and rolled my eyes as I did it.

And then into the frat house I went, ready to shotgun beers and judge freshmen who’d gained the dreaded fifteen.

It was my fifth year in college and he was my philosophy tutor. He had the most adorable freckles on his nose and always ate string cheese. He wasn’t a total dork like Nerdo Vamp, but he wasn’t the kind of guy I should be seen with.

But I liked him. Evan was out of the picture (we were on a break!) and this guy made me feel good. So, we hung out a few times at his house and watched movies and maybe kissed. All right, we definitely kissed.

Image via Joe Cereghino via Flickr

The frat guys
(Image via Joe Cereghino via Flickr)

So, he decided to show up at the big Kegs and Eggs party, uninvited. Then he dared to compliment Serena in front of Moose. Let’s just say Moose had a brain like my subscription to the New Yorker–not getting much use. Kinda that whole “beer good, nerds bad” mentality.

The frat guys hauled him outside and took turns beating him with a bat. I just stood there, trying to look amused. It was supposed to be funny. Right? A bunch of drunk jerks beating the crap out of my not so cool friend.

On the inside I was freaking out, but what could I do? All my friends were there. I was in the running for big sister of the year. No one could know we were friends, or worse had kissed. I’d be blackballed.

And it was his fault for crashing the party. Why would he go somewhere he didn’t belong?

The next morning he was gone. I looked for him around campus and went to his house a few times, but I never saw him again. Even his furniture had disappeared. It was as if he never existed.

A few months later, Evan and I got back together and that was it. I didn’t really think about him again.

And now, there he was, in a suit, smiling at me from Nerdo Vamp’s website.  He was listed as a consultant, along with two other suit-wearing men.

I let the phone ring twice and hung up. Did I really want to talk to him? Did I want to know what happened? Would he even want to talk to me? Was he a vampire too?

I dialed again and this time Nerdo Vamp answered. I asked him about the consultants on his website. Turns out my old friend is an identity specialist. He helps vampires transition into new lives once they’ve aged out of their current one. I guess the DMV can’t know that you’re going to be 32 forever. Neither can your neighbors, the IRS and the people at the Starbucks.

“Why, Libby, my dear you won’t need his services for quite some time. You should be fine for at least a decade or two,” Nerdo Vamp said.

“That’s fine. I just want to talk to him now. Get an idea of how the whole thing works.”

“Well, certainly. I will arrange something. How about next Tuesday?”

“Perfect.” I hung up the phone and went straight for my closet, where my next biggest decision awaited me. What was I going to wear??

(Image courtesy of Koen Dries via Flickr)

I’d like to say this is what my closet looks like right now, but my maid only comes over once week. Sometimes Evan is so cheap!
(Image courtesy of Koen Dries via Flickr)

**Why not start the series from the beginning? Click here to read about Libby’s first day as a vampire**