Last night Diver Dave was already in bed asleep by the time I'd finished watching..er... John Travolta - Inside the Actors' Studio. Well? Could have been worse; could have been Jerry Springer.
Well anyway, as I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, I became aware of a lot of hoofing about going on outside the door. Judging correctly that not even the resident spiders could be making THAT much noise, I realised it was some new kind of Diver Dave getting-up-and-going-to-bed-again ceremony. When asked (through the bathroom door) what on earth he was up to, Diver Dave replied, "I'm moving out", followed quickly by "..and I'm taking you with me."
On venturing out of the bathroom, I discovered that he'd moved all our bedding into the spare room. Why? Because one of our resident spiders had left behind a million billion babies on the bedroom ceiling. We think it was probably the one that Dave chased behind the bookcase the other evening, clearly allowing it to have the last laugh.
I was a bit reluctant to leave the lovely room I'd spent days decorating but had no choice once I knew Dave was going to get serious with the bug spray. Bedroom safely evacuated, Dave showed no mercy.
Next morning, I was treated to the sight of Diver Dave leaping around our new-ish garden furniture with the outdoor version of the bug spray; the really mean one that sees off the red backs (although I STILL haven't seen any). Sarong flapping wildly in the breeze, Dave nearly succeeded in eradicating himself before breakfast.
There are still a few spider-icles in the bedroom so Dave says we have to use the Bug Bomb next. Crikey.
When bug bombs go wrong: http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/metro/20031218-9999_7m18bugs.html
good thing you didn´t run into the king brown red back croco I´m currently building
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