30 May 2012

Damascus VA 0 miles  (TransAm 497)

“Emergency situation! Emergency situation!” I am hollering from the shower but like a tree falling in the forest, am I really making any sound with no one around to hear? There is an unwelcome visitor in here with me and we are hastily retreating to opposite corners, the only thing separating us the curtain of spray from the shower head. This unwelcome visitor has six legs more than I do and right now they are scurrying nearly as fast as mine to put some distance between us.

Having been scarred for life while living in Sydney, Australia with a temporary housemate named Harry the Huntsman, I am not happy to be sharing my shower with a spider. Granted, he’s nowhere near the grand stature of Harry, but I don’t think he needs a shampoo and conditioning so one of us needs to go. Unfortunately for me – and ultimately, I suppose, for him – he is closest to the exit, leaving me no choice but to go for the scalding flush down the center drain. It’s not an easy maneuver, cranking up the hot water while keeping out of its reach, and damn him if he isn’t a sturdy little beast. Under attack, he is curling up and playing dead but as soon as I aim the spray upstream to start the flushing process, he unfurls those eight legs and starts scampering around again. This goes on for far too long before I finally watch him swirl down the drain, and it takes a much too close inspection to determine that those aren’t two little legs still grasping the hole in the corner but rather something a good cleansing with Comet and a scrub brush could get rid of. Emergency situation resolved, but don’t think for one second that I didn’t spend the rest of my shower with one eye on that drain.

Continuing with this creepy theme that actually started yesterday with Gina’s description of her room at the Wytheville Church, we have Gina plunked down for the day in the wee town of Damascus, traversed by the aptly named “Virginia Creeper Trail.” Damascus actually has a lot of trails leading through it, so many so that the town refers to itself as “Trail Town, USA.” Typically our little Gina would be hiking and biking each and every one of these trails, so excited to be in this hub of tracks that she wouldn’t be able to stand it. But not today. Today is devoted to very little physical activity beyond what it takes to toss some clothes in the washer, hang them up to dry, and then throw on some of the clean ones to go to the grocery store. Perusing through her photos, I see she must have gotten her laundry mixed up with someone else’s, for I don’t believe that t-shirt she’s sporting was in the duffel bag that left Seattle. If anyone’s missing a shirt, I think I have an idea of where you might find it.