of a sleep so stubborn as to hold me dear for longer than I had wished, I decide that scrubbing the bathtub while the water boils shall be the best use of my time.
A wicked-looking spider had taken residence in the bristles of my bath scrubby. He flees. During the summer months, any person's residence can be quite the safari, mine being no exception. Soon after, about to hit the shower, the spider is crawling about my mirror and is attacked with shocking agility by a remarkably small daddy-longlegs. There must be more to the hunt than I can perceive, as the spider appears to offer no resistance at all to being webbed up by something that is twice as small as it is.
The next morning, the spider corpse is dangling peacefully in the exact same spot, smaller and more crumpled up, with the daddy-longlegs over twice its previous size, reclining beside. The meal appears to still be casually strolling along. This makes me wonder how long spider years are.
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