Ian: "Wait! That spider killed two flies."
Laura: "Oh."
Ian: "Kill him after he traps the rest of the flies."
Laura: "Okay... Does he have a name?"
Ian: "Charlotte."
Laura: "I thought he was a boy."
Ian: "Charles."
And that's how we adopted a spider named Charles.
Postscript
Laura: "Hey look! Harvey's posing next to your Godzilla doll! How cute! Wait..."
Ian: "I think Harvey just ate Charles."
It took one week, three visits to Fresh Slices, and sixty-seven dips in the pool, but we finally moved all my stuff into Ian's house.
Before: Oh the humanity!
After: Get your minds out of the gutter, people; that's tomatoes and basil we're growing.
The commotion and noise of the move scared Spottswood out of his already perpetually-frightened mind.
WHAT DEMONRY IS THIS?
Ian and I had a blast, despite the hours of cleaning and organizing and rearranging.
Hi, everybody! I'm organizing the dishes!
I will appease Harvey for sixty seconds, while I take this photo. And then I'm fleeing, BECAUSE THE SHEDDING, MY GOD, THE SHEDDING.
The cats are enamored with the new guest bedroom, where we moved my bedroom set.
Forget Spottswood. I am clearly the more beautiful cat.
Finally, Winiferd spent the end of the weekend feeling confused, wondering when I would take her home to our old apartment.
Remember home? I liked home. We should go home.
We can't go home? I stay here?
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