So what we in hot, dry Northern California miss out on in terms of the lush green summers and the wonders of fireflies enjoyed on the East Coast, we make up for by never having to deal with muggy, sticky, gross weather that gives you swamp-ass and makes you feel like you have to take a shower ALL THE TIME.

Or, at least that’s the way it’s supposed to be. That was the deal.

And yet here I sit, in the swamp that is my ass, feeling like I have an inch of slime all over my body, and let me tell you, the novelty is not that awesome. Sure, I was glad when the insane lightning show last night, and the inevitable wafts of wildfire smoke that accompanied it, were then thoroughly doused by a freak and quite substantive rainstorm.  But it’s gotta be in the 90s right now and I’m pretty sure that’s steam I see rising off the ground.  And I just think if my armpits are going to stick together like this for the rest of the day, I should get to see some lightning bugs, goddammit!

We did get this real nice sunset out of it though:



But then we went inside (which was pretty pointless, given that the humidity makes inside feel exactly the same as outside) and we found this behind the couch:


Ignore the dust bunnies, focus on the terror.

We have A LOT of spiders in our house, including infinity number of daddy-long-legses, a buttload of wolf spiders and even the occasional black widow, but I have never seen one of these bad boys here, so it was quite an event. Not a good event. More of a screamy one. I dare you to google images for “brown recluse” if you have even the slightest shred of doubt that is what you’re looking at. Because we did. Which was about the time the screaming started. Some of the photos on the interwebs looked like they had been taken of the exact spider that was in our house. I don’t mean the same species of spider, I mean like the EXACT SAME SPIDER.


And it was big. It was big enough to put a leash on it and call it Rex, but Paul squished it with his shoe instead. Now we call it Dead, which is catchy enough. I just hope there isn’t another one out there who called it Junior, but hoping so doesn’t seem to have any effect on my now absolute certainty that in every dark cranny of my house (and there are oh, so, many) is an enormous fangy deadly spider waiting to come out and play.

Did I mention :(  ?