Sunday, September 13, 2009

Some School

In a thrilling Charlotte's Web meets Arachnophobia week, my car has been invaded. When I attempted to drive to work earlier this week, a spider had made a web inside my car on the passenger side of the windshield. WTF. Ordinarily, I have a very "live and let live" philosophy about arachnids, insects, and any sort of mutant hybrids, but this thing was huge. I'm not kidding. And all I could see were two scenarios:

1. It was going to lay eggs in my car. Pros: It would die. Cons: I would then be Wilbur, taking on the responsibility of raising generations of Charlotte's babies. Not that this spider was cute enough to be a Charlotte, but still.

2. It was one of these, and I was going to die.

I chose door number three, which was to destroy the web but apparently give the spider just enough time to escape into the recesses of my car where I could not find him/her/it/thing. A few days later, there was another web, but no spider to be found. I destroyed another web. At this point, I was feeling rather guilty.

Yesterday morning I got in the car to drive to our fabulous open house, and there it was. A new web, more spectacular than any other. And it was sitting in it. I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I didn't have a boy around to destroy it, I was running late, and all I could picture was me with gangrenous skin and a highly unfabulous death. No way. Not happening. I left it. When I returned, I once again freaked out and drove to the hotel. Then I planned my attack. Obviously Charlotte the Killer was aware of my presence at this point, with his/her/its/thing's freakish assortment of eyes and crazy little hairs that feel things and destroy entire planets. I slowly removed my shoes and positioned them, one on either side of the net. Charlotte knew what was coming, but she didn't dare escape. Then, I struck. I still feel guilty thinking about her potentially verbose offspring, but in the end it was me or her. The true loser in this scenario is my right shoe, which I am still removing spider guts and web from.

The open house itself went well. I attended sessions for departments I don't know much about, i.e. the engineering program we have that isn't huge at all. It was exciting seeing kids I've taken on tour or met in school (although some of them I wanted to hide from... i.e. the family we've dubbed as "pku people" who expected the dining hall to make special meals for their kid... and the kid who wanted to study music but still made me take them into every lab in the science building and then ranted about how cruel it was that we used mice in our experiments... and the kid who was angry that I showed her the fitness center because she tried out for high school volleyball and didn't make the team and didn't understand why... oh, wait, those were all the same person!). I was also stationed outside the brand new dining hall so people could check out the first floor and realize that someday, somehow, they'll actually finish the construction and we'll be able to use it. On one hand, my school totally wins for making an insanely beautiful building that I want to spend every waking moment in. On the other hand, my school totally fails for forcing me to graduate before I could actually use said building. I also had the pleasure of eating lunch with a really nice family who asked lots of questions and then said, "Okay, well thanks for your time" like I was supposed to stop eating and leave because they had all their answers. I took a stand and finished my spaghetti first. But then I wimped out and left before I finished my broccoli. Fail.

1 comment:

  1. so you know I love you, but do you know how much *more* I would love you if you were actually a pig named Wilbur? A MILLION.