Alas, and alack.

So last night, I woke up to rearrange the blanket on my feet. I was super excited, because it was the first night I've been chilly since I've been here and flipped out and took apart my blanket (which was a wool blanket partially sewed inside a hot pocket of sheet) so I could sleep without melting. I love snuggling under warm blankets. Next to a warm fire. Knowing that it's snowy outside. But barring that, just being able to sleep with blankets is nice.

And then I noticed the spiders outside. We had left the window open, because it was so windy yesterday that I guess they stayed in their hidey holes until later than usual. "Alas", I said to myself, and skooted over to close the window. Once the window was closed, I snuggled back into bed. But as I was rearranging my blankets, I noticed something crawling across the ceiling.

"Alack," I said. Ok, that's not what I said. What I said is a few choice and naughty words portraying indignation, disgust, and the sort of panic I don't normally feel about spiders anymore. Something about working at the sail loft and being surrounded by all sorts of bugs at all times really takes away the panic.

But these are not normal spiders. Certainly, my picture doesn't do them any kind of justice. They're the big evil looking ones with sinister oblong bodies and long, pincer-like legs. And I hate them.

So, trying to stay calm, I put on my robe (to cover my neck! my exposed neck!) and put Bear in my pocket, so he wouldn't get eated either. And I got my flashlight, and we surveyed them from across the room.

Here were my plans:

1) Get something to kill the spider with, standing on my bed precariously close to the window and the SPIDER. Except there is...no way I'm getting that close to those PINCERS. And those leggy legs, and eeew.

2) Wake the boys and beg them piteously to rescue me. Offer to pay for the next meal if they weren't enthused. Or the next three. And maybe get them a kitten. But Charlie already warned us that he wakes up punching when he's really sleepy. And I don't know their new Australian roommate. And I would feel super bad for waking them up. And rude.

3) Find something longer to kill the spider, because there is no way my hands are getting anywhere near it.

Option three it was. So I looked about. And found the mop. And put the envelope from my new and unnecessary passport photos on the mop, so I didn't get our roommate's mop dirty. And then, I'm sorry to say, I squished the life out of that beastly thing. And then put the mop away. And calmed down. And saw another, smaller one. And tried to use the mop. And knocked it onto the floor, and used my shoe.

And eventually fell back asleep. The window is closed at night, from now on. Unless we find a huge screen to put in our window. But Russia does not believe in Screens.