Dreaming of ... Spiders Feasting?

I think I've decided that it's just because I'm pregnant that I'm having such weird dreams lately.

Again I woke up this morning after living through some freak thing in my head, but this time it mostly had things to do with makeup and the lack thereof, and how I couldn't get this one particular foundation I wanted (it was so light and smooth it felt like you were wearing nothing at all), and for some ungodly reason I had to go into some dressing room (read: a vertical box with a curtain over it) and get undressed to put this makeup on, but it was so worth it, except by the time I'd done all that and realized I wanted this foundation and lots of it, there was none left and the girl at the store had no idea when they'd be getting more in.

I have no idea what type of store it was either. All the makeup I was looking through were in handbags that were placed neatly on rows of shelves that were staggered throughout the store. Some things were left by themselves on the shelves, things like lotions and perfumes and such, but mostly all of the makeup was inside handbags, and only specific handbags at that.

I was looking through a particularly pink handbag, trying to find the foundation I so desperately wanted, when Mamala moseyed by and thrust a tube of something at me.

"Here," she says. "Try that."

It wasn't even foundation and I didn't want to try it, but I took it anyway and glanced skeptically at the tube, reading. I think I might have been reading ingredients or "How to Use" instructions, I'm not sure. But I do know that whatever it was I was holding, I wasn't interested in using. Quite possibly it was face moisturizer that was tinted since I recall the tube itself actually looked like the colour of the foundation I wanted.

So, I woke up and toddled off to the loo and as I came back to crawl back into bed beside my softly sleeping Canadian, I realized there was a brownish lump on my otherwise steel-grey carpet. I cocked my head and looked at it, curiously I might add, while squinting, trying to determine what this brownish lump actually was. It didn't seem to be moving all that well, and in the near darkness of the room (it was roughly 430am, and the sun was just beginning to bank) I couldn't tell what the hell it was.

"What are you doing babes?" came the muffled mumble of a sleepy man.

"There's something on the carpet," I said. "I don't know what it is."

"Let's see," he says, fully awake now, and comes around to my side, squats down, squints for a few minutes. Then he stands up and proclaims, "It's a spider."

"A spider?"

"Yeah. I'll get the mortein," he says and wanders out into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, I'm still sitting on the side of the bed (in just my unders because it was so freaking hot last night) still squinting and trying to see what the hell this brownish blob actually was. It wasn't that I disbelieved him, it was more like I wanted to see for myself what it was.

"What kind of spider do you think it is?" he asks, walking back into the room, the dawning sunlight dancing across his rippling shoulder muscles.

"I donno," I said. "I can't even see it." Squint, squint, squint. (Somehow I always think that squinting is going to actually HELP me see better but really, it doesn't, unless you're looking directly at the sun) "Turn on the light?"

Quietly and still wielding his can of mortein, he walks over to the wall and flips the light, (I squint some more) and meanders back, crouching down.

"Hmm," I murmur. "Looks like a Huntsman."

"Does it?"

"Yeah a little."

"Sorry spider," he says, preparing to spray.

"What's it doing?" I ask.

"Um," he pauses. "Looks like it's eating."

"Eating what?"

"A cockroach I think. Or maybe a grasshopper."

"Get your camera."

In hindsight, I think spraying this spider during a feed was probably the wrong thing to do. Somehow, now looking back on it, it seems a cruel and unusual punishment for a little being who was just hungry enough to come down off the wall or ceiling and feast on my bedroom carpet. I'm really sorry Charlotte.

It turns out that Charlotte had been feasting a moth, for which I now feel even worse over making D kill her. (Though in my defense, I didn't make him kill her, he volunteered) We've been having quite a moth problem for the last month or so, and we've yet to figure out a way to stop them coming back. Well. After this morning's little effort, I think I now know the way to stop them coming back... Only if we can manage to stop killing them.