I saw a billion little spiders burn up and vanish into smoke this morning.
I was drying my hair and getting ready for work when I looked out my bathroom window and saw them. They covered the street like a literal ocean of black skittery legs, crawling all over each other in every direction. I knew I was safe—obviously, I've got LED light strips set up all around my house, but I'll admit that didn't stop my heart from slamming against my ribs once or twice.
There were just so many. A mass of them, going like a meter high, everywhere it was dark. And if the news is to be believed, just one bite is enough to send you to the hospital. So no, I won't be opening any drawers today without gloves and a prayer.
That said, and I know this sounds weird, but it looked like the spiders were scared, too. I swear they were panicking as the first light of dawn touched the rooftops. They knew it was coming. And I heard them, in my head. It's like their screams were pushing into my skull.
I'm not crazy today, by the way. I feel fine.
Then the sun hit them. One moment they were there—heaving, skittering all over each other, flooding the street and everything else not directly beneath a lamppost—and the next, they were just smoke. Little wisps rising into the air. All of them. In under two minutes, the street was empty. Clean. Like nothing had ever been there at all ... except for the flattened grass and the fact that they knocked over my trash can.
Poor spideys. I felt sorry for them, though.
Anyway, I'm writing this at work at the hotel—I wanted to get it down before I forgot. I should stop now, before someone notices.
***
I'm back home.
Work ended a little differently today. We've got a new guy joining us at Reception—Terry. Cara introduced him to me as I was finishing my lunch break. She said, "Elani, you can train him, right? You're so good at all that computer stuff."
Pretty sure that's the first time she's ever complimented me. Usually it's more like, "damned woman must've missed her meds again" behind my back—but I guess extra responsibilities with zero pay bump come gift-wrapped in compliments.
So anyway, it was Terry's first day.
Right off the bat, he irked me a bit when he mispronounced my name four times in a row. I mean, it's just 'E-la-nie'—how hard is it, really? And also, he showed up without his uniform. Told everyone he forgot it at home. So ... great first impression. Hip-hip hurray. He told me, privately, that he just didn't like the style of it. Inept, all-is-good-assuming losers just love confiding in me, I guess.
I wonder if I can use him somehow.
I spent most of the day teaching him our reception system, like a good coworker would. He asked a bunch of dumb questions, but he's not as hopeless as Angelica when it comes to moving a mouse, and he can certainly type quickly. He's a gamer, apparently. Good on him. He might turn out surprisingly capable in the future.
Anyway, after a while on the computer, I showed him where our gloves, black-glasses, and lightsticks are, and we went to clear out the wine cellar of any spiders. Poor idiot almost blinded himself by not putting on the glasses properly, but it's all fine. I made him a coffee as an apology for 'my' mistake and politely asked him not to mention it to anyone. He put in literally six teaspoons of sugar.
But as far as he's concerned, we're basically besties.
***
I saw some of the local junkies on the way to the store. They were lying around in shopping carts, eating chips and smoking something illegal. For a second, I considered tossing them some coins so they could buy themselves cancer a little faster, but I decided to leave that public service to someone with a bigger paycheck than me. I haven't had a raise since last year—I need to keep my coins to myself. Which is also why I stole a pair of sunglasses from someone's shopping basket while they were busy stuffing the rest of their haul into a plastic bag.
As I exited the store, I heard disembodied voices whispering behind me. I didn't turn around to look, but I know they were just auditory hallucinations because I recognized some of them from before. Also because they seemed to be coming from around the height of my feet.
I guess I'll take some meds later.
***
Well, hours have passed again since my last update. The sun's gone down, the world is covered with hordes of little black spiders—minus the houses, the ground just under the streetlights, and every other properly illuminated area—and I am lying on my bed, having just failed to import cheap plastic jewelry from China. My whole idea was to get fake jewelry for pennies, slap on absurd markups, and pretend it's high-end for a couple of weeks before disappearing to avoid getting sued. It'd be a classic success story—but how am I supposed to turn a profit when even the base prices are insane? How am I supposed to start a dropshitting business if our tax-guzzling overlords insist on tariffing everything? It's like my tax money all rocketed towards establishing the fun police. Damn it all. I'll have to think up a different kind of pyramid I can sit on top of. I'll do that tomorrow.
Anyway, the voices are getting louder, but I don't think they'll bother me while I'm asleep, so I'll take my meds in the morning. I've got the day off tomorrow, anyway.