Note the timestamp...
Fuck. No man should be confronted by an eight-legged mouse while he is taking a slumberish piss in the early morn.
Take my pulse, please. Heck, take it? I damn near gave it away. I hear the wife moan a question from her bedroom..."Just killing a giant-ass spider, honey...go back to sleep..." I whisper, but of course, the damage is done.
Shit I'm tired. I shan't relate the battle. It is, was, too horrible for words, but I prevailed. Though I will say that creatures such as that should not have actual heft when you pick them up in a wad of kleenex to put them down the loo.
Or wiggle a bit.
I had been dreaming of milk and cookies. Odd, as I feasted well, yesterday. KFC is off my list for eternity, as they have gone to all soy oil now, but I began my day with McDonald's, a biscuit with egg and cheese and bacon (gosh, they do good biscuit) and lunched upon two spectacular Popeye's chicken legs. The Mexicans had over-buttered their usually perfect biscuits, as is their wont (no wonder they are such fat-asses) and nearly ruined them, but the chicken was magnificent.
Then the wife blesses me with the unexpected bounty of a McRib sandwich, upon her return from the doctors with the kids. McDonald's is using local, fresh Oregon onions in their sandwich, and they are sweet and crisp and delightful.
The doctors, you ask? Well, it seems that Nat quirked her neck some during the trike wreck that broke her arm, and has been having/complaining of headaches, since, so some X-Rays and such were in order, and perhaps a consult to a chiropractor. And Johnny's persistent ear infection was pestering him, so...
After my battle in the downstairs bathroom, I fetched a plate of four cookies, and a mug of sweet cold milk, and settled down to watch some news. Nothing but politicians and pumpkins. Both the same species, and about as interesting.
The wife stumbles down, spies my plate, and goes and fetches her own, and we watch together, for a bit, in pleasant, kid-free companionship.
We note that the outside temperature is a mere 32 degrees, a disappointment, as we were expecting 10. We had prepared the kids at bedtime, braced them as it were, to wake up frozen and dead, so we, or at least I, were somewhat let down.
I am so proud of the wife. She actually sat through Shaun of the Dead with me last night. Well, most of it. The Tivo had missed the last ten minutes or so of it, and she was actually pissed at me about it.
That's my girl.
I could only eat two of the cookies, but I had to have another mug of milk. She had chopped pecans, fine, and used white chocolate chips, and they were quite too sweet and rich for me, though lovely in their own way. The second one became a burden about half way through, and I only finished it because the butter fat made me.
A proper cookie should bend, not crumble or break, and these were, are, very proper cookies.
As an aside, in your FACE! beeyotches. Seven posts last night in an hour! Match that. I actually toyed with the timestamps to make it appear as if I had taken more time, being a little self-conscious about it. Screw that. Oh well, what's done is done.
And I'm done.