I live alone … or so I’ve thought. 

About three weeks ago, I noticed this little creature hanging out beside the container that holds my toilet brush.  And he’s still there.

Some people in my life have had a forceful response to spiders: “Kill them!”  Then there were the folks who would run away.  I’m neither.

Part of me wants a pure environment at home, which includes no bugs.  But it’s not the biggest part.  Surely I could co-habitate with this little one.

Some days I never saw him or her.  Behind the silver cylinder must be a good place to hide.  Mostly though, there he was – perched in the air as far as six inches from home.  Usually me turning on the light meant he’d scurry back close to the metal thing.

I’m no biologist.  But my mind meanders in the presence of my spidery friend:

How long will you live?

Isn’t it boring having a world that’s so small?

What do you think about?

You don’t seem to get much exercise.  Are you okay with that?

What do you think of me?  I must be immense in your eyes

Is it hard being alone all the time?

Should I get you a wee TV?

***

I figure that these are important questions for an important being

Am I more important?

I don’t know. I really don’t