I don't like spiders.

I don't HATE them, because hating things is useless, I just don't like them. They're icky, and icky, and have all these legs, and they crawl, and their icky!

I always figure, I leave them alone, they won't attack me in the middle of the night after I've tripped over a recliner that they've moved into the middle of my living room because they know I don't ever get home until it's darker then ink and I can't see because I'm a dork and forget to keep the light over my kitchen sink on and it's the perfect time to get me. Or, God forbid, when I'm sleeping. (Honest...this 'leave `em alone' thing works, so far so good.)

Ever notice how they watch you watching them and crawl up the wall? You know what their thinking don't you? "How high do I have to go before I can leap down on her and giggle as she squeals".

I don't squeal anymore. (Ha ha to you spiders!)
I used to, and I am so ashamed of it. They're still icky. And gulldummit They MERIT squealing!

My flowers are dying. (No thanks to the spiders I'm sure.) It's a crime, I should be arrested. Flower abuse, I should be locked away. I should turn myself in. I haven't planted them yet....I haven't even finished the flower beds to plant them in yet. It's been too hot.

That's my exscuse.

So there.

Someone's house caught on fire last night. (Ok, this is an uninformed opition based on the fact that I wandered around in my P.J's last night in a neighborhood full of smoke. I'm ASSUMING from the lovely fire trucks and all that, that it was a house. Might have been something else...who knows.) It wasn't MY house, which is good, but it was someones house, which isn't good at all. I'm willing to bet my left arm that it was fireworks. See! That's why you don't let stu..er...common sense challeneged people have matches.

Got home and Boots was outside. Who let Boots outside? That's the 64,000,000,000,000,000 dollar question.