It's almost over now. When it has passed, what will I remember about this day?
Getting out of bed and sidling up to my favourite mug for my morning drink of water. Idly pouring said water into mug and taking a hearty slurp. Wondering momentarily why my water was so hairy. How can so much of my hair have got into my mouth? I'm wearing a hairband, for crying out loud. Why is the hair moving? What- has it got... legs?
I spit, faster and with more vigour than a Nyonya matriarch chewing sireh. A bedraggled spider landed in the sink and began its drunken, tottering walk to safety. I decided my safety was worth more (apologies to environmentalists, but I tend to place my survival above that of the white-tail spider) and drowned it in a bowl of water.
In that horror-film-worthy second or so when my groggy mind was reconciling itself to the fact that there had been a live (and lively! Oh, how it jigged! How it wiggled its little hairy arachnoid legs!) spider in my mouth, my mind also flickered to everything I know about Australian spiders, which is not a lot. I know some can kill with a single bite. Oh, lovely. I briefly wondered how long it would take people to realise they hadn't seen me around for a while, and which one of them would eventually find me, still as an Indian summer night. My forehead would be on the kitchen floor and there would be a spider in my mouth, my lips swollen to B-grade Hollywood standards. Oh. Luv-uh-ly.
Several anxious mirror-gazing moments later, I decided with relief that my lips were not any puffier than usual, and there were no puncture marks. The only casualty was floating in a white porcelain bowl in my kitchen sink.
Somehow, I think I will remember those first few moments of my day more vividly than the Tax Office errands, the BodyJam class, the farewell wishes to my favourite gym instructor, the last-minute research for the paper due to be presented tomorrow. I might remember the crumbed miso fish more clearly than all these, but only because it pleasantly took my lips' thoughts away from memories of those scraggly legs frantically searching for escape.