Nobody. Warned me. About the spiders.

Is northern California a spider haven? Is it the time of year? Is it the fact that I live on the ground floor? Is it the universe's cruel joke, now that I can't fetch my mother or boyfriend to kill (or preferably, catch and release) spiders for me? Do I have a sign taped to my forehead that says: "Calling all spiders! Especially if you're big and black and have abnormally long legs! Make my life a living hell with your reign of terror! This is a really good time for me!"

When I cleaned my room this weekend, I found three spiders. (This is known in the annals of history as the Battle of the Vacuum.) There was one on the ceiling, which was right above Cassie's cage. (I have a persistent, terrible fear that a poisonous spider will bite and kill my bird. She is, after all, the size of an overgrown Nuprin. It won't take much to do her in.) I sucked it into the vacuum.

There was one on my bed. I don't even want to think about it. I screamed and swatted it with a notebook, then scooped it into the trash can.

And finally there was the nastiest one to date which, as I was kneeling on the floor, vacuuming the corner of the room, crawled-- no, emerged-- out of a hole that was about AN INCH AWAY FROM MY HEAD.

I don't do well with spiders. You'd think, since I've killed roughly 20 million of them recently, I'd be doing a little better. But I'm really not. They just make me shudder, with their legs and their silent crawling and their stealthy approaches. I imagine them anywhere. I see them everywhere. They are the Enemy.

Here's the most horrifying part. The bathroom. I have killed, no kidding, at least ten of them in my bathroom in the past two days. I just came from there, and there was a humongous one crawling on the wall, about five inches from the toilet bowl.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sit on a toilet seat when you can EASILY imagine an undetected spider crawling onto your butt? Or how it feels to take your clothes off and step into a small shower when you've already killed two spiders in your shower and another could come into view at any moment? When your contact lenses are not in, and you're half blind, and every strand of your black hair looks like a spider? When you have no weapon except a shampoo bottle?

I'll help you. It's freaky. AND IT'S FUCKING FREAKING ME OUT.

Yes, I've read Charlotte's Web. I know that most spiders are nice and don't deserve my wrath. I do feel terrible that I'm not strong willed enough to capture each and every one and set them free in the Arachnid Elysian Fields with a wave and blown kisses. But I turn into such a GIRL when I see a spider. I squeal and jump. I throw my shoe from eight inches away and let out a little "eek!" every time.

I'm not proud of this.

So anyone who can tell me why this spider thing is happening, how to make it stop, how to keep Cassie safe, or how to get over my embarrassing girlish behavior, do please write, aysap. The battle rages on, and I fear the rebellion is growing stronger.

Speaking of Cassie, I'm surprised how comforting her companionship is. I know she's just a parakeet (no, really, there's no need to e-mail me with your support group information) but she has a personality, and she likes interacting with me, and she amuses me with her bizarre and endearing ways.

This helps because, well, I'm feeling the loss of Matt a little more acutely these days. I'm realizing he's not quite that easy to replace. I was able to push the hurt aside and distract myself, but recent events have brought the issues of sex and love and relationships squarely back into the forefront of my mind. And the emptiness is back.

I'm tempted to call him, and it is getting more difficult to resist the temptation. I know I'd just backslide, and before you know it, I'd be crying and telling him I missed him and begging him to come back. I'd turn into Marcy, playing the fool, while (no doubt) some other girl would be sitting with his dick in her mouth at the other end of the line.

Maybe it's silly that a bird keeps me from being too lonely. I know it must seem silly to you. But I am staying strong, and whether it's silly or not, I am getting some of that strength from my yellow feathered friend.

Who, if I have anything to say about it, will never be eaten by spiders.

"I accepted the snake with one, and only one, caveat: I did not want anything to do with the feeding of the snake. I never wanted to see the rat, know where the rat was, or hear one single word about it. Of course, that backfired on me when I ended up basically fondling the rat in my own freezer.

I think I may be a little desensitized now.