I have learned to deal with spider season here.  There is a sort of overgrown walkway to our back gate / parking space, and when August gets rainy & steamy, I have learned to navigate it with one stiff arm raised, sort of a heil-Hitler meets Heisman-trophy kind of deal, to break through the spider webs with something other than my face.  It’s either that or do that panicky little dance, running my hands all over my hair and arms and trying not to scream "get it OFFF MEEEEeeeee" like an idiot.  Iiiiick. 

For three days last week there was a spider who decided to make her home in our front door.  Big web covering most of the door.  The first day one of us walked into it (see above: iiiiick) and then I got wise.  Opened the door in the morning, checked for web, and got the broom.

"I’m sorry!" I called, to her, wherever she had scuttled off to.  But geez – across the front door?  I am a bit too much of a meal for even a whole commune of spiders.  Speaking of which, there is a huuuuge web in Texas that may represent an unusual collaborative effort by many spiders…. eeeeeeww.

So I knocked her web down, and the next morning it was back.  Bigger.  "Come on!" I called out.  Because I really want to coexist with a spider, as long as I don’t have to see it up close. 

"Pick someplace else!" 

I’m not going out of my way to knock her web down.  But I am not going to limbo out my front door each day, and I was here first.  So I got the broom, again, and the next morning: there it was.  Bigger.

But it did get me thinking.  About my persistent weight gain, which I have been ready to blame on everyone and anything – IVF drugs, my supposedly sluggish thyroid, age, sunspots – but myself.  Every day I have built a web of plans: I’ll eat this, and that; I’ll cut out this, and that.  I’ll exercise more here and there.  And at some point, after a few days, it would all fall apart.  Mostly due to my desperate love affair with sugar. 

I can go a few days without, but I usually tell myself a little bit of indulgence here and there is affordable. Or should be.  And isn’t it unfair, if it’s not. Because she eats it, and look at them. And him.  It’s not fair.  That’s all just me creating maximum drama so I don’t have to break up with my lover, sugar.  And getting fatter.  I was basically building my web on the wrong things, in the wrong place, and when it got knocked down by my own self-destructive addictive craziness, I just built it up again.  Bigger. 

So in a nod to my own bonehead do-it-over-again Groundhog-Day learning curve, my song du jour is not new, but new to me, and comes with a video: OK Go’s "Here it Goes Again."  Oh how deliciously clever is this video.  And the song is a fun slice of eighties nostalgia, takes me back to Joe Jackson and the Cars and whatever else took the upper range of my hearing and singing voice way back in the day. 

On the eve of my 4th IVF, aww yeah.  Here it goes again.

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