Tag Archives: venn diagrams

Warning: May Contain Traces of Spiders

Do you ever wonder if spiders just want attention?

Maybe they don’t hang out in our showers because they are spiteful and want to ruin our mornings with a fight to the death over the shampoo. Maybe they just want to spend time with us, but don’t understand how humans do things. They watch how we interact with our pets and our friends and perhaps don’t realise that they can’t just copy and paste the behaviours that work for our cats.

spiders1

This has happened to me twice.

I would like take the opportunity to point out to all spiders in my readership that this isn’t acceptable behaviour. Opening your eyes in the middle of the night to a spider-face inches from your own is not a fun or cute experience. After the second time I started getting flashbacks whenever I got into bed. If it happens for a third time then I may have to start sleeping hanging from the ceiling from like a bat.

And speaking of the ceiling, spiders, please don’t jump off it onto me. I don’t care what you’ve read, that’s not okay either.

spiders2

The sensible part of me said not to include that last picture because it is obscure and silly, no one will get it and everyone will probably think I’m weird. The rest of me was still snort-giggling a week after coming up with it and saying: “Silly spider! Ask Louisa Musgrove how well that tactic works.”

Turns out the sensible part of me does not hold enough brain-shares to win a majority vote.

It did manage to push through a caveat in the form of a Venn diagram, though.

spiders3

I hope that spiders work it out eventually. Perhaps the fiftieth time they are shepherded into jars and dumped in the garden, or when they watch you setting fire to your bed after they disappear somewhere in your bedroom, something will click in their little spider minds.

“Ohhh,” they will think. “I get it now. Boundaries.

And then maybe if we could communicate with each other we could sort out some kind of truce.

spiders4But probably not.

 

 

 

 

How to Propose with Extra Dinosaurs

“Where have you been these last few months? We’ve been suffering without regular posts filled with your sparkling wit and hilarious cartoons!”

I know. I know, guys. I’m so sorry for abandoning you to several dull, me-less months. But I’ve had stuff on.

“What important stuff could someone who has chronic fatigue syndrome, who barely leaves the house, who doesn’t have a job and who continually tells us she’s terrified of her social life possibly have on?” I hear you say. “I mean, you’re actually inventing a conversation with imaginary fans you don’t really have. Surely, that’s rock bottom.”

… All true, but too harsh, guys.

“Oh … We’re sorry.”

Don’t worry about it. Let’s just say we’ve found the line and we’ll try not to cross it again.

What stuff have I had on? Well, a couple of weeks ago I proposed to my partner.

I wrote a Choose Your Own Adventure story about my partner arriving home to find me gone. The first page was clipped to the front door for him to find, and then he had to make choices which would lead him to other pages. I organised a number of perils for him to face, including dinosaurs, the Loch Ness Monster, a severed arm, a Furby* and a ballerina zombie. All pathways of the story converged on finding me and the last page, which had the final decision of the story: “Will you marry me?”

I know. SO ROMANTIC. Who wouldn’t want to marry me after having their hand imaginarily bitten off by the spinosaurus that was hiding in the fridge? I should write romance novels. propose1 He said yes. Everything was downright magical for about a day until people started asking what our wedding plans were, and then I came to an awful realisation.

I don’t like weddings.

Oh, marriage I’m ok with. Sure, it’s not for everyone, but I think it can nice if you and your partner have an equal, supportive relationship. (In fact, I like the idea so much that I think more people should be able to get married; can I get a hell yeah for achieving marriage equality in Australia by the end of 2015?)

But weddings? Weddings are big, expensive and uber stressful. Just thinking about weddings made my anxiety soar to graph-drawing levels. propose2 So we did a lot of thinking.

There’s so much stuff in weddings that people think they need because that’s just how weddings are, but all you actually need to achieve with a wedding is a) get married, and optionally, b) celebrate with family and friends. Everything else is frosting. Which is fine if you like frosting (and are rich enough to pay for it), but we don’t (and aren’t).

We want cake and celebration. We don’t want fuss and glitz, and under no circumstances will I be put on speaker-phone. But ultimately as long we’re married by the end of it I think we’ll call it a win.

* If you don’t know what a Furby is, then you can read what Wikipedia has to say about them, but I find their account unsatisfactory as it completely ignores the saccharine, demonic horror of the toys. Think Funzo from the Simpsons. propose3