All things hellish

For Christmas I bought a new pair of very cute pajamas. (Now, admit it. That is not even close to the first sentence you imagined you'd read with a title like "All things hellish".) I bought them and told Kevin they were a gift from him. Anyway, I love them. 100% cotton. Shorts with a button up, short sleeved top. Cute. Very Cute. So cute that I am quick to change into them after work. I figure anyone stopping by (and who would?) might imagine I am wearing a highly coordinated short set.

Anyway, this morning I woke to find the shirt entirely unbuttoned. That can only mean one thing.



Particularly if you take into account that it was last night that we were once again visited by the legion of baby (demon) spiders. (Kevin already wrote that report, though he woefully understated the size of the number that swarmed, literally, swarmed around the window in his study. He says he thinks people will be impressed with us sucking 50 to their doom. "But," I say, "we easily collected more than 50 with one sweep once we discovered where their little party was."

Since Sunday morning things have calmed down. No giant hole direct to hell has opened in our lounge. The number of baby spiders is dwindling, again. And, Kevin is concerned that my blog here may be mis-interpreted. He's argued that I likely unbuttoned my shirt myself in my sleep. He may be right. It is obvious that Kevin can hardly turn over in the bed without waking me. (Though I told him I knew HE hadn't done it.) I am very sensitive to heat and light while sleeping. The buttons, however, were not melted by any burning Beelzebub fingers. There was no lingering odor of brimstone. And, I've had no sudden impulses to consume raw meat. Maybe everything will be alright.

Maybe.