Slightly random

Last night I killed dozens of white baby spiders that were being creepycrawly on my ceiling and now I'm fairly certain that they're punishing me from beyond the grave in the form of horrible spider nightmares. I hate spiders. I always wanted to be one of those people who was completely unbothered by bugs, but the truth is that they ick me out and I hate them. And these horrible baby spiders kept dropping down onto my bed or my book or my face and it was gross so I did what any reasonable person would and killed their entire family, or so I thought, because this morning the ceiling was covered again. I discovered this after abruptly waking from a bad dream in which my ceiling and floors were covered with big shiny black grownup versions of the white baby things, and they were skittering toward me and I was terrified, and when I opened my eyes to reassure myself that it had all been a dream, I discovered that once again there were swarms of them directly overhead. I piled blankets on my face so the spiders couldn't get in, and went back to sleep.

I'm thinking about taking the ferry up to Alaska in September, but the logistics are intimidating me. We'll see.

Ok, so I know that by now everyone has made poetry out of their spam emails and some people have grown tired of the subtle art of spam text, but has anyone else noticed that spam sent to Gmail addresses has been really amazing lately? Examples:

This, Mr McDermot said, is Mr Inkster, K. There, Edmund would meet them in timeto catch the boat; and his father would take her home. An elderly workman was seized by a belt, hurled aloft,thrown to the floor, and instantly killed. It was, as you know, before the final decay of the town. At Arbala, everything proceededas in a void; no vestiges of the past were to be seen or inferred.

I have my task, he cried, looking high tothe stars. I found the skeletons of six men near an arsenicwater hole. Clouds hung along the mountaintops, coloured into deeper glory as the sun sank. The prospector halted stolidly and slowly turned back.

Do you think you could come to love me, really love me, Rachel? Ringer, her foot done up in rags, hopped lightly tothe door to greet her. Thats what Im after doin, Miz Blake, onct I git em out-a him. Blake told Lawndis to go back to the house and drink thecoffee that was left.