Daddy Long Legs


I’m sitting in the bathroom, because it’s where I write of a morning (the glamorous life of a writer). It’s the only place where I know I’m far away enough from our bedroom so I won’t wake Tiger with the light or my typing. I have a mug of chai at my side, and a cheese and relish sandwich, and I can’t concentrate at all on what I’m meant to be doing.

Because there is a Daddy Long Legs watching me.

And I can’t stand Daddy Long Legses. I know, I know, I KNOW that they can’t hurt me. I know something-or-other-not-poisonous-or-short-fangs-or-something but they are CREEPY and this one is camped out across the room just staring at me and it’s giving me the willies.

Therefore, to distract myself, I am Googling cute animals.

Here is a baby elephant:


The Daddy Long Legs is still watching me. I’m going to do housework. Maybe that was its aim all along.

One thought on “Daddy Long Legs

  1. In midwest America where I grew up we were taught to never kill a daddy longlegs because it would cause it to rain. Well of course I had to test that theory out so I killed one, felt bad, and wouldn’t you know it… rained. I have never killed another one. True story.


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