Not Peter Parker (or Andrew Garfield)

Meet Freud.

Freud is the spider of abnormally large size that decided to infiltrate the upper left hand corner of my window. Freud freaked me out because I prefer to keep my window open and now there is the fear that some big-ass spider will crawl down the window and into my room. I decided upon further inspection that his feet (or whatever is analogous to our feet, on a spider) are not suitable for dealing with glass. This made me feel only mildly better, since I know nothing about spiders.

Today was a day like any other, before Freud made his startling entrance into my life (startling in that I came in, threw down my bags, looked out the window and went “my GOD that’s a massive arachnid!”) I signed up to audit a French class. I had hoped that our assessment would be a computer test or something similar. But no. No no. It was a person, in my case a man, who just began speaking to me. In French. He spoke to me with the expectation that I would respond. In French. And while my comprehension is not at all bad, my ability to put together sentences is quite rusty. So that was a lovely little challenge after a long wait in a queue.

On queues: I don’t think a British person is truly happy unless they’ve waited in at least two queues in one morning. A day without standing in line is a day ill-spent, in their estimation (it seems to me).

Then came relinquishing a heinous amount of money to send Thornton back to America, where he will be replaced by Thornton, 2.0 and returned to the UK. And THEN came the truly astronomical cost of my Latin dictionary. I sincerely hope this dictionary contains the secrets of the universe or the road to El Dorado, because only THEN will it be fully worth its price.

In other news, today is the first day that it truly rained in earnest. The fat rain droplets fell from the sky in little plonks that ran down my open window and rattled Freud’s artfully done web. He had, rather masterfully, crafted his web so that it was anchored to my window on multiple points rather than just one. This way, I could adjust the window without causing any damage to the web’s structural integrity (much to my dismay).

As the rain gathered on the gossamer strands and weighed them down, Freud fought to repair the damage done and strengthen the web. It was actually fascinating to watch him move up and down the web, legs plucking strings like a harpist checks her instrument to test which strands would be the most efficient to fortify. In Freud, I noticed, that when a spider releases its webbing, it drags its two posterior legs behind almost as if to keep the thread from tangling and to ensure a straight line. This movement is oddly graceful, heightening visual comparisons to trapeze artists or divers after they’ve disappeared beneath the surface.

Eventually Freud recognized that resistance is futile and climbed out of the rain-ravaged web to cling, upside-down, to the brick window frame. Now the rain has stopped and it is dark outside, and I don’t know where he has gone. So I suppose I got my wish, that Freud disappear.

But I’ll admit that despite my little commune with he and nature, I would still be freaked out with him up there every day. Unless he chose to start spinning Latin vocabulary words into the web. In which case we might be able to forge a truce. Provided he doesn’t come inside.

(After a terrifying google search on common UK spiders, I’ve determined that I want him to be an Amaurobius fenestralis or Lace Webbed Spider. Lace Webbed Spiders are not poisonous, very common, and like to mingle in windows. Did I mention they are not poisonous?

Because they are not.

[UPDATE: woke up this morning to a brand-spankin-new web. Freud’s just chillin’ and now I have to close my window whenever I leave to do anything because Freud still freaks me out]


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