This is my entry number 100. My 100th entry. Woo hoo.
There is about an hour of Thursday night that I do not remember. I don't do drugs, nor do I drink; I have my own personal inhibitor: lack of sleep. I was up at five thirty that morning and at about ten thirty that night I was extremely sleepy.
Nathan says that first I just got incoherent, and then I wouldn't stop giggling, even though nothing remotely funny was happening, and finally I just curled up in bed and was dead to the world. He tells me things that I said and did and I have no memory of any of it.
So, now I wonder what my fears of alchol are because I say that it's the idea of waking up in the morning without the complete knowledge of what I did for certain swaths of time. Well, that's a pretty good description of Thursday night. I just remember being warm and having fun, and then waking up the next morning to hear all about what I did that I don't remember having done. If this is what getting drunk is like, now I'm not certain what my fear is.
I have to rescue the spider in the bathroom later on. I believe in a commensalistic relationship with the majority of creatures- they don't bother me, I let them live. Now, this applies to the occasional critter. I have no use for the swarms of asian beetles, and if the house were infested with wolf spiders I would probably not be so forgiving as those things are obtrusive. I would even be willing to live with a snake or mouse if they kept to their own business.
Nathan, however, is more the Ron Weasley type and lives by a "squish now, ask questions later" philosphy. I am trying desperately to curb this habit, but it's not working. If I'm around, I have to vouch for the life of the creature in question, and generally have to relocate it outside. If I'm not around, he is totally unmerciful. So, I have until he comes back from work or the poor little cellar spider falls victim to The Great Kleenex.