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Cadwell NOT Caldwell
More legs house
[5 minute read ]
The spiders have stopped coming into my bathroom. I caught a few house spiders queuing near the toilet pedestal to get in the bath, daring each other to get in and try to get out. Obviously, like the moths that come in between three and four in the morning weary of 'Fly me to the moon' songs and night-time carousing, they were thirsty. The spiders, I used to just scoop up and throw out the window, knowing their low mass meant they wouldn't suffer more than a bruised knee or a twisted ankle. Then, a couple of days ago, I had an idea; to be honest, I felt more than a bit guilty because I know that house spiders die outside and it has been really quite warm lately; but these one's were monsters, and I couldn't help thinking that they might sit on my face and lick the corner of my eyes or something, when I was asleep.
The spiders and I have a working relationship; they can stay if I can't find them. I know they act as chomping bouncers and eat the unruly multi-legged species that run around too boisterously at night. I know they are respectful and really would salute me if they could figure out which leg to use in order not to inexplicably insult me. I got bitten by one once. It kind of spoilt it for all the others. It would. Guilty at throwing them out, and selfishly thinking the burgeoning insect population will gang up on me if I keep decimating the resident security forces, I caught the spiders under a glass and slipped a piece of card under them, and then transferred them to a wet piece of card for an hour. Then I chucked them out.
I think I had thrown out the boss of the spiders a few days ago. Usually, when I evict one it comes back and I see it the next day. They weren't coming back. The dry weather has had its toll on them as well. A couple of years ago, the hot and dry weather seemed to kill off much of the slug and snail population in my garden; at least the ones that live overground, that is. I didn't mind that!
Now, I have noticed the moths have stopped coming in. I suppose they need water too; in fact, I know they do. I have seen photographs of moths and butterflies drinking. recently, moths were plaguing me. My sleep pattern was severely disrupted by drinking 'squashes' after a dehydration problem. I completely forgot that many years ago our culture had determined that sugar is bad for you and it has been replaced in orange squash and the like with sweeteners which seriously disrupt my equilibrium, and following that I had, had to make my own lemonade with real sugar and lemon juice. Stupidly, I went to the shop about a week ago and bought four bottles of concentrated 'squash' including a Ribena one (not as bad as the rest). As I said, it is the sweeteners in them that really, really disrupt my thinking. People around me were tentatively asking me if I am alright. Eventually, I took to asking if I look ill.
'Well, yeah, a little.'
'I am hot. I have just been cycling,' I would reply because inevitably this was true. I felt like I had a hang-dog face, as though I was about to be sick in ten minutes time.
Yet, I could not sleep. I was shattered and absolutely wanted to be unconscious for a while but no, sleep just would not arrive. It was always over the horizon; a bit like waiting for dawn to actually happen. You know, you can see that the sky is lightening but, I don't know, you look down at your shoe or something and then when you look up you missed it. I think falling asleep is like that.
Falling asleep is like waiting for dawn to happen. Thinking: 'I can't sleep. I can't sleep.' and then the alarm wakes you up and you think, 'What happened?'
Awake for most of last week, I met a lot of moths. I keep myself to myself, but they always seem to be going crazy when they are in my home. I suppose they get confused because I light my living-room with two angle-poise lamps. I just then thought, I wish they were oil-lamps, which is the romantic way of saying paraffin lamps; but paraffin lamps are for Arctic expeditions at the turn of the century and oil lamps are much more comfortable in stately homes where the Addams family live.
The moths, after a while twisting their melons on where the moon really is, erratically fly about and bump into me. Perhaps it is a game and they dare each other to tickle me or something, but I can tell you; the ones that live are silent and un-moving on the walls. Perhaps, living in an environment with two psuedo-moons is like taking magic mushrooms or acid for a human. Science-fiction writers take note. There is a housefly that likes to land on my lower legs which fly-killer just will not kill. It has lived with me for the last four years; just the one. I really just cannot abide the thought of flies throwing up on any food they like and then sucking it up again, even if I don't think of them pooping everywhere. Bring back the spiders, eh?
Unlike most people, I don't remove the cellar spiders from my ceilings. They seem to be dead because they never ever move, except they do; we, most of us, just don't see them move. They count our breaths and smell the air and judge when we are asleep and only then make their perambulations across the ceiling, and yes, down the walls. I am guessing that, because they count our breaths....smell the air....
Oh my good Crikeyness! I saw one moving the other day; a cellar-spider, that is. The exclamation is not because I saw one move, it is because of the way it moves. If we first consider that they are not just mindlessly waiting for us to leave the room or go to sleep, and instead if we think that they are meditating, we might get a better understanding of how they glide. Not for them the quick scurry across a parquet hall or carpeted bedroom, such as mere arachnids sprint. Cellar spiders slowly, and seemingly effortlessly, move their legs so they never stop moving at all. there is no jerkiness. It is like watching a ballerina but without any real velocity. I once saw a Buddhist Monk walking as though he didn't want to disturb the air. Cellar spiders are the spiritual gurus that other discerning spiders go to for advice. They probably never get it though, because they would never get it.