I saw a million little black spiders burn up and vanish into smoke this morning.
I was drying my hair, a toothbrush in my mouth and nothing but my bra on when I looked out my bathroom window and saw them. They covered the street like a literal ocean of black skittery legs, crawling all over each other in every direction. Damn. I knew I was safe, obviously, I've got the ol' LED light strips set up all around my house just like everybody, but I'll admit that that didn't stop my heart from slamming against my ribs once or twice.
There were just so many. A mass of them, going like a meter high, everywhere it was dark. And if the news is to be believed, just one bite is enough to send you to the hospital. So no, I won't be opening any dark drawers today without gloves on and a prayer.
That said, and I know this sounds weird, but it looked like the spiders were scared, too. It's like they were panicking as the first light of dawn touched the rooftops. They knew it was coming. I heard them in my head. It's like their screams were pushing into my skull.
I'm not crazy today, by the way. I feel fine. I'm pretty sure it was just my hair dryer giving me third-degree burns.
Anyway, then the sunlight kissed those spiders and they went poof. One moment, they were there, flooding everything not directly beneath a lamppost, and the next, they were just smoke. Little wisps rising into the air. All of them. In under ten seconds, the street was empty, like nothing had ever been there at all ... except for the flattened grass and the fact that they'd knocked over my trash can.
"Poor spideys," I said, talking to myself out loud as per usual. I actually felt sorry for them, though.
Anyway, I'm writing this at work at the hotel—I wanted to get it down before I forgot. I should stop now, before someone notices.
***
I'm back home.
Work ended a little differently today. We've got a new guy joining us at Reception—Terry. Cara introduced him to me as I was finishing my lunch break. She said, "Elani, you can train him, right? You're so good at all that computer stuff."
'Computer stuff.'
Pretty sure that's the first time she's ever complimented me. Usually it's more like, "damned Mrs. Bipolar must've missed her meds again" behind my back—but I guess extra work with no pay bump comes gift-wrapped in compliments.
Yay is me. So anyway, it was Terry's first day.
Right off the bat, he irked me a bit when he mispronounced my name four times in a row. I mean, it's just 'E-la-nie'—I know it's unusual, but how hard is it, really? And also, he showed up without his uniform. Told everyone he forgot it at home. So ... great first impression. Hip-hip hurray. He told me, privately, that he just didn't like the style of it. Inept, all-is-good-assuming losers just love confiding in me, I guess. Actually, John was just like that at the start, too…
Anyway, I wonder if I can use and abuse him somehow. I spent most of the day teaching him our reception system, just like a good coworker would. He asked a bunch of dumb questions, but he's not as hopeless as Angelica when it comes to moving a mouse and typing. He's a gamer, apparently. Good on him. He might turn out surprisingly capable as a receptionist. In the future. Right now, he's garbage.
After a while on the computer, I showed him where our gloves, black-glasses, and lightsticks are, and we went to clear out the wine cellar of any spiders. Poor idiot almost blinded himself by not putting on the glasses properly, but it's all fine. I made him a coffee as an apology for 'my' mistake and politely asked him not to mention it to anyone. He put in literally six teaspoons of sugar.
But as far as he's concerned, we're basically besties.
***
I saw some of the local junkies on the way to the store. They were lying around in shopping carts, eating chips, and smoking something probably illegal. For a second, I considered tossing them some coins so they could buy themselves cancer a little faster, but I decided to leave public service to someone with a bigger paycheck than me. I'm single now, after all, and I haven't had a raise since last year, so I need to keep my coins to myself. Which is also why I stole a pair of sunglasses from someone's shopping basket while they were busy stuffing their haul into a plastic bag.
As I exited the store, I heard disembodied voices whispering behind me. I didn't turn around to look, but I know they were just auditory hallucinations because I recognized some of them from before. Also because they were coming from underneath me.
I guess I'll take some meds later.
***
Well, hours have passed again since my last update. The sun's gone down, the world is covered with hordes of little black spiders again—minus the houses, the pavement just under the streetlights, and every other properly illuminated area—and I am lying on my oversized bed, having just failed to import cheap plastic jewelry from China. My whole idea was to get fake stuff for pennies, slap on absurd markups, and pretend it's high-end for a couple of weeks before disappearing to avoid getting sued. It'd be a classic success story—but how am I supposed to turn a profit when even the base prices are insane? How am I supposed to start a dropshitting business if our tax-guzzling overlords insist on tariffing everything? It's like my tax money all rocketed towards establishing the fun police. Damn it all. I'll have to think up a different kind of pyramid I can sit on top of. I'll do that tomorrow.
Anyway, the voices are getting louder because I forgot to take my meds, but I don't think they'll bother me while I'm asleep, so I'll take them in the morning. I've got the day off tomorrow, anyway.