You’ve got to pay rent if you plan to stay! There’s some Insect Story shit going on here! I’m no fool to your games Woody!
I predict my target zone given the tarantula’s accelerating trajectory (to be fully transparent, it was a very small spider). This is not Charlotte’s Web! I mark my position and, sorry vegans, Buddhists, & Andrew Garfields, slam down my knight in shining rose gold MacBook A(i)rmor, smoothing out my bedspread as my laptop terminates the spinner. I twist the bottle cap off yesterday’s splurge purchase in Central Park (a Poland Spring water bottle, naturally - $5 - not the first $5 water of this week and not the last smh), and scoop it up with the empty and open bottle, brazing my Ralph Lauren white duvet cover with the jagged plastic lid.
The Witchcraft subreddit states (not sorry) that a spider in one’s bed symbolizes the arrival of one’s shadow shelf and full femininity, bringing destiny to one’s doorstep, making it a perfect “time to weave wishes into a reality.” I’ve just squished my dreams and shadow shelf by way of self-defense I guess. Better luck next time! Come back tomorrow! And as for my dreams…back to square one, I guess?
To new beginnings then. To the start of summer!
It’s the summer (again) and I’m single (again), which is great and all…until there’s a spider in my bed; it’s okay, I’m camping out in the living room. Can’t do Maggie’s bed (she’s in Maine) plus a fair and honest cockroach was recently laid to rest after exploring her bed: she keeps her fire escape window open...and she (the insect) sure appreciated our hospitality…what can we say, we provide comfort for the fairies and magical creatures of New York!
Everyone is married or engaged and I still sprint past my apartment window after a shower every time I forget my towel. Remember your friends who started dating in college? They have four kids now, a summer vacation house in Nantucket, and live in Park Slope. See, I’m at the fork in the road, where if I see a cute guy on the street, I’ll do this thing where I’ll bite the sides of my cheeks, to define my non-existent high cheekbones in hopes of…I’m actually not quite sure; I’m applying circa 2014 rules that duck face = maximum mystery quota reached so that then he’ll obviously stop in his tracks and propose right there as the 7:00 a.m. garbage truck toots by.
I killed a cockroach sitting on the toilet once with my APL sneakers. I didn’t wear them for three months and never cleaned the antennae off the sole of my shoe. Why? Fear. Procrastination. Or actually, I just forgot. Oh, and, even better, a House Centipede (hyperlinking because photo is too scary) crawled out of my laundry bag at the Laundromat. I thought it was a moving eyebrow or bundled red hairball — so it wasn’t until after I bent down to pick up the bag, as the aggressive industrial ceiling fan spun above as loud as nails drilling into concrete (cortisol increasing) that I screeched and then stomped as this Jurassic-looking creature came into view. I then stood. In the 90-degree laundromat, mouth ajar, as the woman next to me laughed. Martina. She cracks me up. She witnessed the entire ordeal. I don’t speak Spanish because I suck (but also because I took Chinese instead) so we proceeded to hand my phone back and forth, with Google Translate pulled up, translating our narrative of the preceding moment into Spanish and back into English for the next ten minutes; little did she know, my OCD took center stage and she helped me overcome it a little bit. Who the hell needs a boyfriend, I’ve got Martina.
Back to summer and Dreams. Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom Well, who am I to keep you down? Safe to say I’ve girlbossed a little too close to the moon that the witches of Practical Magic are reaching out to me via insect communication and I’m straight up killing all of them. Maybe these insects I find, whether it be in the bathroom, on a pillow, or wherever else I have seen them, symbolize the men I’m subconsciously repelling from my life. That feels like something Carrie would say.
It’s so hot that I’m experiencing the terrors of seasonal lethargy that I’ve walked to the wrong apartment door far too many times in the same week (exactly one flight of stairs beneath me). But whenever I do reach the door and lift my head it always feels innately wrong just a split second before I even look up from the floor, then I’ll gulp and gasp to myself “oh no,” laugh-cry-running(-nearly-choking-on-spit-and-out-of-breath) up the fifth flight of stairs with heavy legs before I ever come face to face with our scary neighbor again in this life or the next. This is a scary neighbor who may even exceed your worst trepidations; she who once knocked on our door during a HOLIDAY party in December on a WEEKEND for being too loud! And (EVEN WORSE) dared accuse our unit of having loud amorous congress in the daytime on a Saturday when we were both painstakingly and depressingly single at the time that it was merely mocking our undeniable and cruel reality. Also, I was so shocked when she knocked on the front door and confronted me about it that when she asked me where I was during the “hours of the crime” as I held my toothbrush in one hand and wool scarf in the other (shudders in winter wear), looking up to the top left corner of the apartment door, that when I spoke I literally couldn’t have sounded more defensive on my whereabouts. I was on trial and I had been proven guilty. I remembered later that day (finally) I was getting a facial and Maggie was at the Bathhouse. We were OUT, protecting our peace.
It’s summer and being single in my twenties feels like time wasted. I don't know if it’s because the air is cozy and the sky feels happy and I want to share it with someone else or if it’s because couples are coming out of hibernation but it might be biological. The answer ‘tis lost in time. I realized being single in the summer is time well spent learning about the shadow self, sans spider. :) So shred those tempting credit card deals in your mailbox and always wear shower shoes at the gym! We are the creators of our own destiny; life isn’t happening to you but FROM you. Timothee Chalamet said it once. So believe it!!!!!!!!!!
Catch my two next posts for this week dropping this weekend, will discuss female friendship <33 (shoutout to my gals) and another undisclosed topic. Happy July 4th (almost)!!!
This was so relatable, thank you !!
Literally snort laughed into my coffee on the metro