I now have an Olympic sized butt. Time to get off it and back to some real work. The best part of the Olympics, other than Canada kicking ass was that it made the normally slow weeks of February zoom by as fast as a speedskater on speed. For that we are all eternally grateful. The last two weeks of February always feel at least six weeks long. Don't let those 28 little days fool you: February is the longest month of the year.
Rachel the spider is a bit of a problem. I don't think she's dead...she isn't balled up into the little spider fist of death...but she's not moving much. Or moving at all. I've been reading up on tarantulas and how to tell if they are dead...don't give me that look, apparently it is almost impossible to tell a dead tarantula from a comatose tarantula...and they do occasionally go into comas... So now I am operating on the assumption she is comatose.
According to aracnoweb I should leave her alone for a while, but give her drops of water near her fangs and keep her somewhere warm and semi-moist. If she continues to not move for an excessive length of time (Although not one of the spider experts agreed what constitutes and excessive length of time) she needs some tarantula intensive care. I need to move her to a tupperware container with holes poked in it all around for air, place her on wet paper towels, place a small water source near her (clam shells are the perfect, size and depth) and keep her very warm and moist. supposedly wearing the tupperware container in a pouch near the body (my body) will allow me to keep her at the perfect temperature.
I can be like those ladies who carry dog slings and have their pampered pooches peeping out from under their winter coats. Only I'll have a hairy spider! I can freak out people at the mall. I can freak out neighbors! I can freak out myself!
My favourite spider story was from one of the owners of the site, who told a tale of a spider that didn't move for two months so he gave up, wrapped it in paper towels and placed it in the trash. The next morning a very angry T. was walking across the kitchen floor saying "I am not dead!"
And that's all for today. I hope Rachel is okay and is soon slaughtering crickets again. We miss her underside jammed up against the glass feeling our vibrations when we are at the dinner table. It's like she's listening to what we are talking about.
And why is someone on goolgle looking for "cartoon porn Ginormica" and finding my blog?
