Home not alone

I don’t usually wake up alone. What can I tell you? I’m that sort of guy.

Married.

On the occasions I do wake alone I don’t like it. There’s often something bad happening. For example, back during the unpleasantness of 2003 I awoke on on my first ever morning in my first ever bachelor flat and lay contemplating the new hand of life-cards I had just been dealt. It was not an exciting prospect but I decided the best thing to do was just get on with it and see what happened. With teeth gritted I threw back the bedclothes to discover that I had shared my repose with a rather large spider, which duly tried scuttling back under the covers.

Now, avid readers of this blog (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha – good one) will know how I feel about anything with that many legs. I was far from happy, and took it to be a sign that my new life was going to be a complete disaster and full of monsters, frights and unhappiness.

So much for portents. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

So this morning when I woke alone (Mrs WeeKeef is week-ending in Oslo with a pal who has some Norwegian ancestry and has been pining for the fjords) I was remembering this episode as I gradually rose to consciousness. Imagine my delight, therefore, when I eventually opened my eyes to find a spider clinging to the ceiling right above me. I mean right above. It could not have been more directly overhead if it had checked by dropping a little spidery plumb from its hairy arse to my open mouth.

I considered the situation briefly and came to the conclusion that Norway was a bit too far to ask Mrs WK to pop back and deal with it, so I girt my loins and went into full manly mode. It is an ex-spider.

Come on world – what else have you got to throw at me? I’m ready for you.

 

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