Wednesday, April 24, 2013

My desk just became war zone.

A few minutes ago I was typing up a blog entry, minding my own business, when my musings were interrupted by what felt like a drop of acid being dropped onto my skin. My reaction was typical, I jerked, swore under my breath and then looked at my arm to figure out why it was suddenly hurtingand then throbbing. Wait, I know this pain. It’s familiarit’s not a happy thingit’sa spider bite.  Great.

Somewhere in the area of my work desk is an eight-legged freak that just gave me a matching set of holes in my arm and then high tailed it out of sight before I could flatten the little bugger. So now there’s a guerilla war going on. The enemy is out there, hiding and no doubt plotting its next attack. I have nuclear capacity (or the bug vs human equivalent: a shoe) and now it’s just a matter of time before one of us is going down.

Of course in the meantime I’ve got a throbbing, swelling arm that’s going to start itching momentarily. (Did I mention I’m mildly allergic to spider venom? Yeah, good times) My senses are currently on hyper-alert and even reflections are making me jump. I just just slapped my leg only to discover that it was the mouse cord touching me and not my eight legged nemesis. Is that tiny arachnid laughter I hear mocking my every twitch? Yes, I think it is.

If the enemy doesn’t show itself soon I may need to up the ante. I wonder if my boss would understand if I set fire to my desk. You know, like in the Aliens movie, nuke it from orbit, it’s the only way to be sure.