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Day 14. Dottie and the High Rise Toilet Conundrum

A spider has taken up residence over my sink. She moved in two days ago. I thought about kicking her out when I lifted my head from the sink, startled to find a new tenant in my already crowded apartment, I mean, she’s not paying rent. But then I noticed the two tiny, gnat-sized flies she’d caught, and I decided she could play maid if she wanted to, and that would be payment enough.

Her name is Dottie, or if she’s really a male-spider, I suppose I’d call her “Thriller,” since she is living in her spider-made canopy several spider-stories above a solid surface. I’m reminded of my mom’s boyfriend’s desire to sleep in a very tall tree in a hammock-like structure when I look at her corner of the apartment world.

Dottie and I get along. She hangs out in the teeny corner of her tiny corner of the apartment, and doesn’t get in my way. I noticed she caught a third fly sometime tonight, and thanked her profusely for her efforts. They are really annoying and one flew into my nose when I entered my home the other day. I asked if she had spider-relatives who could create something at the bottom of my door to catch the extraordinarily large insects that fly into the apartment at night, but she said her people don’t do that kind of construction. Dottie’s a pretty good engineer, but I guess I can only ask so much from a half-inch spider.

I also noticed that she’s been furnishing her little web-apartment. Instead of the meager floor she installed when we were still talking about how this situation of ours was going to work out, she’s now put in more webbing and has a fully two-layered white platform. I know how she feels. I’m still creating “my” space in this new place too. She seems basically comfortable, so long as she doesn’t act like she needs more from an apartment, and I think that’s a really good example. I think I’ll follow Dottie’s lead. Of course, like the tree-hammocks that Mum’s boyfriend wants to sleep in some day, several hundred feet above the ground, and I ponder how the toilet system works in one of those tree-things, I ponder what Dottie uses for her toilet. I’m sure she uses something on her platform, but I can’t help but think that we’re in the same boat there too. For all I know, my leaking, sinking toilet, is probably just floating on the rotted bathroom floor, a dozen or so feet above the basement floor, waiting for something, maybe myself, to fall through to the hard floor below. I wonder if Dottie fears that she will fall through her home when she uses the toilet. She probably doesn’t have time for fear, as she works to keep her web neat and tidy in such a tiny space above my sink. Dottie and I have a lot in common.

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