I have, however belatedly, realized that I should probably come with a personal warning-label. Perhaps a flashing light on the top of my head, or a large Hazmat sort of logo emblazoned on my forehead in neon colors, or a nice blaring air horn that goes off intermittently and scares the socks off of everyone within a two-mile radius. Or some combination of these. In particular, it should ward off any unwary spider-haters from my vicinity, for their safety and sanity are of such importance to me.
You see, I have always recognized that my head is full of cobwebs. Dust bunnies, too, perhaps, but clearly those are less dangerous than cobwebs, which of course bespeak the presence of web makers, i.e., spiders. It never occurred to me before that I was putting the health and happiness of arachnophobes so at risk–in addition to any threats to vitality and salubrious sentience that might be inherent in my mere personality, that is. I am heartily sorry for this oversight. Now, consider yourselves warned. And yes, close your eyes as you skim past the photos.
As it is, the whole of the idea was brought bubbling to the surface from my murky depths by the difficulty I’m having waking up today. I could blame it on jet lag, on overcast skies, on increasing age and so many other possible causes. But if I am to be fully honest and transparent about this whole thing, I do have to admit that the cobwebs and spider-friendly environment existed long, long before any such influences were at work. The cavern of my skull may well have been arachnophilic to this extreme from sometime around when I spoke my first words–and indeed, that would explain a great many of my thoughts, blurts and actions in the ensuing years. It might also be instructive as to why I find actual spiders and their artistry rather charming and attractive, but that could simply reflect other aspects of my oddity and have arrived on its own.
In any case, here I sit, well after the noon hour on a day that ought by all rights to be a productive and purposeful one (and undoubtedly is, for saner and more useful persons), still trying to emerge from the glutinous bonds of cobwebbery and hoping that nothing catches fire until I do. I beg your patience. At least the spiders in the neighborhood will stick around to keep me company.