{"id":83,"date":"2006-04-06T13:24:36","date_gmt":"2006-04-06T18:24:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.forgetful.ca\/?p=82"},"modified":"2006-04-06T13:24:36","modified_gmt":"2006-04-06T18:24:36","slug":"goodbye-little-ned","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/?p=83","title":{"rendered":"Goodbye little Ned"},"content":{"rendered":"

I do not kill bugs. I can’t bring myself to do it. I am never the one to lift the shoe, no matter how big, hairy or fast the insect. I can’t even stand to watch the cats (and now Humphrey, who sometimes thinks he’s a cat) bat the poor little things around for 10 minutes before they actually ingest them.<\/p>\n

This does not mean that I like bugs. Nor does it mean that I like having them around. In fact, the opposite is true. When faced with a creature with more than four legs, and after I give out a short high-pitched yelp, I somehow muster the courage to coax the intruder onto the closest portable flat surface, only to clumsily tear through the house to toss it outside. It’s never pretty, but it works. The consequences of said bug left in the house are too frightening to consider (i.e. spider dangling from web into your mouth while you sleep).<\/p>\n

This brings me to the point of my post. Last year, Dan left for one of his many trips to China. I was therefore left at home alone to fend for myself. This includes re-setting the home network after a power failure so that the telephone and internet would be functional. Not surprisingly, the cable modem, router and VOIP boxes are high up in the rafters of our basement, just over the washer and dryer.<\/p>\n

On this particular day, as I was cursing under my breath (or not so under my breath) about the internet going down for the third time that day, and was climbing up on the dryer to reach the boxes, I saw…<\/p>\n

\"Ned<\/p>\n

…and I froze in place. Now I was freaked out. I still had to turn my attention, reach up and fiddle with the plugs, knowing that a spider (the scariest of all the bugs, that is except for the house centipede<\/a>, which we saw scurry across our restaurant table on our second date – **WARNING** click at your own risk) was within one foot from where I was standing. I doubt he was happy to see me either, though I can’t be 100% sure.<\/p>\n

I finished resetting the network and I slowly climbed down and backed away, careful not to disturb him. At least if he was in his web I could keep close watch and, better yet, be sure he wasn’t going to come after me (because spiders often do).<\/p>\n

That was over a year ago. And since then, each time I go to do laundry, Ned (as I like to call him) and I have a little stare down. I keep my eye on him; he keeps all 6 of his on me. We have an understanding though. I leave him alone; he eats smaller bugs that have found their way into the house. I would prefer him to live somewhere else, but he’s chosen our basement beside the dryer. And I’ve learned to live with it.<\/p>\n

\"Ned,<\/p>\n

And now we are moving. A tiny part of me worries about Ned. We have a history together. We’ve shared many dark and light loads, he in his web, and me in my jammies. And now he will soon be forced to move on to a new home…if he even makes it that far. I wish only good things for him: plentiful meals, warm air and the solitude he craves. He deserves the best. Farewell, dear Ned. At laundry time, you will be missed.<\/p>\n

I won’t miss his weird stripey legs though. They are gross.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I do not kill bugs. I can’t bring myself to do it. I am never the one to lift the shoe, no matter how big, hairy or fast the insect. I can’t even stand to watch the cats (and now Humphrey, who sometimes thinks he’s a cat) bat the poor little things around for 10 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0},"categories":[28,35],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=83"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=83"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=83"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=83"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}