ahream

EVENING OF DAY ONE

Husband: (crouched down on the floor trying to look under the couch) “I think I saw a spider run under here.”

Me: “Can you see him now?”

Husband: “Nope. He was pretty big though.”

6 AM DAY TWO

Husband: (face under a pillow, muffled voice emerging from the depths of goose feathers) “Yougoinrun?”

Me: (rolls out of bed and lands with a smack on the floor, uses the opportunity to feel around the floor for running clothes that don’t smell too badly) “Uh huh.” (struggles to feet trying to pull a pair of shorts on over my head, make it to the bathroom with my head stuck through one of the leg holes)

Here’s the thing. I don’t speak in complete sentences before I’ve had my Soy Puffs. And I try very, very hard not to have a crises before my first Diet Dr. Pepper. So a 6 a.m. trip to the potty is just way, way too early for the following scene.

(Taking care of business and flipping through Vanity Fair, brain fog still heavy, vaguely thinking that Anderson Cooper looks better with gray hair)

Movement near my foot. I blink. Contacts aren’t in this early. I blink again. The damn thing was the diameter of a golf ball and sneaking up on me unawares like the devil’s spawn it surely was.

Did you know it’s virtually impossible to finish tinkling when being advanced on by a giant killer spider? It’s true. Your brain shuts the whole system down, like some sort of biological fuse box. You get just enough juice to run out of the room with your undies around your ankles, shorts on your head, screaming for your husband.

Nothing like a little dignity to start your day.

First the bees. Now the spiders. Plagues usually come in a ten pack, right?

ahream Dispatches from the City of Angels I'm a mystery writer living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my short story, "Running Venice," in the new anthology LAndmarked for Murder. Look for it in bookstores and on Amazon.com now. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (0) Most Recent Twitters: A 3-foot long alligator was found walking down the middle of the street in Venice Beach this morning. I love L.A. In case you were wondering, it is very difficult to get a hummingbird out of your house. They are irrational and prone to hysterics. L.A. Finds: The Nickel Diner on Main between 5th and 6th is a made-to-look-old, throwback of a place that melds into the old downtown and is, at the same time, part of the renaissance. They serve their burgers medium, their soda in bottles and offer all they can to locals in need. Flickr Updates: The second Thursday of every month is the Downtown Art Walk. The galleries stay open late, the restaurants are packed, bands perform on the streets. God, I love L.A. What I'm Reading: Attack of the Unsinkable Rubber Ducks by Christopher Brookmyre What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami Want E-Mail Updates? Click here, type your e-mail address into the first field (for public entries) and receive an e-mail note each time a new blog post goes up. (Photo updates, Twitters and "L.A. Finds" features not included. Those you have to swing by and check yourself.) Absolutely, positively no spam. Promise. Other author blogs: Sue Ann Jaffarian Eric Stone Christa Faust Lipstick Chronicles		2006-06-09 12:17 PM Spiders like to watch you tinkle EVENING OF DAY ONE Husband: (crouched down on the floor trying to look under the couch) “I think I saw a spider run under here.” Me: “Can you see him now?” Husband: “Nope. He was pretty big though.” 6 AM DAY TWO Husband: (face under a pillow, muffled voice emerging from the depths of goose feathers) “Yougoinrun?” Me: (rolls out of bed and lands with a smack on the floor, uses the opportunity to feel around the floor for running clothes that don’t smell too badly) “Uh huh.” (struggles to feet trying to pull a pair of shorts on over my head, make it to the bathroom with my head stuck through one of the leg holes) Here’s the thing. I don’t speak in complete sentences before I’ve had my Soy Puffs. And I try very, very hard not to have a crises before my first Diet Dr. Pepper. So a 6 a.m. trip to the potty is just way, way too early for the following scene. (Taking care of business and flipping through Vanity Fair, brain fog still heavy, vaguely thinking that Anderson Cooper looks better with gray hair) Movement near my foot. I blink. Contacts aren’t in this early. I blink again. The damn thing was the diameter of a golf ball and sneaking up on me unawares like the devil’s spawn it surely was. Did you know it’s virtually impossible to finish tinkling when being advanced on by a giant killer spider? It’s true. Your brain shuts the whole system down, like some sort of biological fuse box. You get just enough juice to run out of the room with your undies around your ankles, shorts on your head, screaming for your husband. Nothing like a little dignity to start your day. First the bees. Now the spiders. Plagues usually come in a ten pack, right? Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top