The Things You Should Have Handy

A spider descended at my bed and face, just after I'd won another snooze, at about eight fifteen, to congratulate me, I imagine, on the ease with which I wake from nightmares about the real-life situations nightmares frequently precede, and mid-turnover we were eye to eye to eye to eye and so on and I realised it was bigger than my hand, and I immediately tried to re-feel my fear as something like familiar delight at its resemblance to the last spider of similar size that had been so close to my mouth, which was the one I used to share a caravan with, back when I ate cheese four times a day, but I didn't manage to fool it, and it wouldn't stop approaching, so I got out of bed and waited for it to land, and then I gave it a fiver and told it to get a fucking taxi.