What One Girl Knows

Home at Astoria, at last. It feels weird to be back -- as if New York City has become expontentially larger and brighter than it was three weeks ago.

Itching from at least a dozen spider bites (shudder). On our last night in Dunkirk, Jason and I armed ourselves with brooms and cans of Raid, went outside, and killed spiders with bodies the size of half-dollars. It was raining, but dozens of spiders were there anyway, their fat little translucent bodies obscene in the street light. The next day, exterminators were supposed to finish the job, but Audrey thinks they were slacking. She's only seen one spider so far today, but the baby spiders climbing the walls and ceilings and bed sheets are tiny and translucent and difficult to see, and she doesn't have the greatest eyesight. So no idea if progress has been made.

Our overnight sojourn in New Jersey was okay. Lots of HGTV. A bed without spiders was a plus. Victoria the three year old was the most entertaining and interesting. She believes in biting the skin of her arm (vigorously) to keep her balance, and said, "Look. Me and the dog got haircuts!"

One of Jason's oldest friends is acting like a prick. Not letting us know if he wanted us to come down to visit him in Atlanta, and then pouting because we didn't. Sending Jason cryptic letters about "true" artists and how Jason and his "friends" (whoever that means. Probably me) weren't "true" because they don't feel enough or some such shit. Jason thinks it's because we all got degrees in Creative Writing, so said friend doesn't think we're authentic artists. We're too educated or something. Prima donna nonsense, but he's been Jason's surrogate father figure for years, and J's getting upset.