THE MOST TERRIBLE THING HAS HAPPENED: I woke up this morning and found eight spider legs splayed on my duvet – in two rows of four, just like an actual spider – but without a spider body. Spider parts on my duvet.
Think about this for a moment. What does this mean?
I was sleeping. Soundly. Dreaming. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, a maniacal spider was creeping along across the duvet toward my face, where he was probably going to leap INSIDE MY MOUTH and/or DRINK FROM THE CORNERS OF MY EYELIDS and probably kill me and/or birth babies somewhere in my skin.
And then, we can assume, that the spider met a foe. Probably in the form of a cat, who spotted the spider before he reached his destination and either (a) played with the spider until his legs fell off or (b) ate the juiciest part of the spider WHILE I SLEPT.
How could this have happened? Spiders in my bedroom? On my bed? On the duvet ON TOP OF MY BODY? How can I ever sleep again? I can’t, obviously.
Nothing worse has happened in the history of time.