Unfortunately, Robin had moved into the apartment in February, which with its proximity to work, at the time made the apartment seem perfect. But when the warmer months started to come, we realized that we really weren't as alone in that apartment as we thought we were.
See, it was clear that the guy who owned that house was making nothing short of a buttload from his tenants. The house looked small from the front, but when you saw it from the Smalley view, it absolutely towered. It was a fucking beast, with about four floors and what I'm sure was more than one apartment per floor. The studio where Robin lived was, quite literally, the basement of this house, which had been converted into the quaint little apartment. And I don't know if you've ever lived in a mother fucking basement, but if you haven't, I'll enlighten you on a little fact: It doesn't fucking belong to you. You may live there, but it belongs to the spiders.
They showed up small at first, completely non-threatening. Well, I guess I should say that even at their maximum sizes, these were still your average house spiders- as far as I know they're not harmful at all, and an average person who is not completely petrified of spiders, they're probably pretty useful at keeping the rest of the bugs and pests away. But I am not one of those people. Nay. Not even close. I see a spider and I absolutely fucking freeze in fear- I cannot move, even to run away screaming. They shake me to my very core and in one moment I am casually walking my unnecessarily large can of Twisted Tea to the recycling bin, only to be followed immediately by the sharp jolt of panic and anxiety that rushes my body upon noticing the spider just chillin' somewhere within ten feet of me. If I even see pictures of large spiders on the internet, I'm struck by the irrational fear of them crawling through my screen by the billions and using my body as a playground, and I'm left contorting in weird positions and cringing at a completely harmless computer screen. I even wanted to attach a picture of the kind of house spiders I'm talking about here, but that proved completely impossible immediately upon googling "house spider." Nope. No, thank you.
One of those haunts we began referring to as "Big Momma's House," because of the week that Robin went to Spain with his family. I of course stayed at my own house that week, because it was deep into summertime at that point and the spiders were in full swing, and being that Robin wasn't around, I couldn't be left to kill spiders on my own. I later learned that I would regret this absence of maintenance, because on the day Robin was scheduled to return, I went to his apartment to tidy up, so that he would have a nice place to return to. However, I got about halfway through and was promptly evicted by what to this day remains as the biggest spider I have ever seen in that apartment, because half her size was taken up by her massive pregnant belly, which looked like it was ready to burst and send billions of little house spider babies spewing over every fucking centimeter of that apartment. And even more fortunate and strategic for Big Momma, she didn't prefer just any old corner- she preferred the Dyson corner, which rendered her unsuckable. At least for me. Me, I promptly dropped literally everything I was doing, grabbed my bag and my dog, and left the apartment, partially debating if I should douse it in gasoline and throw a lit match in on my way out. Big Momma was so impressive that she even got a spooked "HOLY SHIT" out of Robin when he first laid eyes upon her glory and the sheer magnitude of her baby-filled ass. I waited outside while Robin did the deed, and only after I heard the Dyson run for a good ten seconds did I feel it was safe to re-enter the Basement Full of Spiders.
So goodbye basement, and goodbye spiders. May the tenant who follows us not harbor a fear of spiders, or, for the sake of full disclosure, the occasional house centipede. But those guys are another story.