Kitchen

Kitchen

WHAT THE LIVING FUCK!!!!!????!!!

SERIOUSLY

WHAT THE FUCK?

THIS IS BRITAIN, NOT SOME EXOTIC AMAZONIAN RAINFOREST. I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS. I’M GETTING TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT!

Ok. Enough shouty ranty capitals. Most of that photo has scrolled up and out of my vision.

Kitchen.

Tonight. I’d had the idea of this blog for a few days. Then I went to get a glass of water. And this appears, roughly shoulder-height, on the kitchen wall.

My camera isn’t the best, though it’s not terrible. But I can’t do brilliant close-up shots. Which means that this thing has to be HUGE for me to get the detail on it that you can see in this photo. Even using a slightly zoomed lense to get better detail, I still had to hold my hand pretty damn close to it to get the picture. Only my attempts at being a detatched photographer kept me from freaking out.

Only my attempts at being a wussy liberal kept me from killing that thing dead the instant I saw it. That’s not true. I also wouldn’t know how to dispose of the body. I’d have to get a couple of bin bags, put them in my boot and escort them to a field burial in the dark of the night.

The thought that it’s still somewhere within this house makes me squirm. And tuck my shirt back into my jeans, just in case something were to crawl up the sofa.

Scaryness: 8/10. It’s not actually a tarantula. It didn’t jump on my face. These are not great comforts. Somehow I’m supposed to sleep tonight.