I am currently engaged in a war with the spiders for control of this room, a slow quiet battle. With the lights on I know I am winning; though I do notice the stray strand here, the beginning of a web that was not there yesterday.
They hide behind wood, the spiders become shadows; tucked into a corner until the lights go out. In the darkness, they scurry over the walls, eagerly working, even affecting my dreams as I sleep.
The knowledge of how many I must have swallowed so far used to give me grim comfort, for surely they could not win with this many of their ranks accidentally being eaten.
But now, I think they may fall into my mouth on purpose, tiny little kamikazes, an attempt at some slow sort of poisoning.
I am otherwise not malicious toward these insects. I don’t kill them intentionally. I even warned them when I first decided to inhabit this part of the house. I gave them a full three days to leave, and told I them please try to stay out of my mouth.
©Robert Emmett McWhorter