Here's Arthur ... again
Another morning, some time on, I found Arthur on one of the lampshades. While normally it would be no big deal … this lampshade happens to be the one suspended over the middle of my rather small kitchen – a very intimidating position indeed. He was relaxed in the squidgy pose of crooked legs … the one these spiders use after you’ve belted them with a magazine and they’re trying to make you feel sorry for them. (This pose is second to the one that has these spiders curled up in a ball smaller than a Malteaser after you have managed to dispatch them. It’s designed purely to make you look like a right bully and will also have you considering repentance for what you’ve just done – you murderer, you).
So … with Arthur draped casually around the lip of the shade I was a little bit wary of how secure he was. I even wondered for an instant if it was payback for my clumsy morning sojourn a few days previous, that had him scarpering up the wall from behind the curtain like his hairy little arse was on fire.
Regardless, I made my morning coffee keeping a very cautious eye on him as I manoeuvred around the kitchen from fridge to bench to electric kettle and drawers. I then left him to it, hoping that while I drank my brew he would decide to trundle off and settle into his favourite possie beside the pantry.
But no such luck. After several subsequent trips into the kitchen for breakfast and then another cuppa he seemed determined that he would spend his day exactly where he was. I had no choice then, but to tackle my important forays after that, with a number of neck-stretching machinations than were designed to give one either a headache or a twisted spine. This proved to be uncomfortable let alone downright painful on occasions. Consequently, I retreated into the lounge-room to replan my day.
This is how it went.
Firstly, I asked him kindly if he would move, scat, relocate … aww, come on, Arthur … this is not fair. But he was stuck in his decision (though there was a moment where I thought he might be stuck in the cobweb that was draped thickly across the same lampshade). Plan B was where I wondered if I could do the relocation myself. But I did a rethink on this notion as it’s rumoured that these spiders will jump at one’s personage if they are startled. And … we’d only been friends for a few weeks so there was no telling which way this one might go!
So … it was back to the drawing board.
After several half-hearted ideas had flitted through my head, I finally decided that it was not a day for the kitchen. Arthur had persisted and won. He could peacefully spend his day on the lampshade without me hassling him. This meant that the dishes would be left on the sink until the following day (that was if he did not decide to spite me by taking up residence there for a second sit-in). Lunch was a quick get together of bread and cold meat and the last meal of the day was not what one would call a culinary delight.
To end the day, with the turning out of the light for the evening I wished him a good one and hoped he hadn’t got burnt while he was up there keeping company with the light bulb all those hours. *