Dead Tarantula

Bad omen. After all this talk about "tarantula hunting" representing seeking peace and resolution, I was leaving my condo yesterday morning, and as I walked around the back of my roommate's car in the garage, the garage door lifted just enough to catch a glimpse of something round and brown on the pavement outside. After doing a double-take, I walked over to the large, light brown tarantula just outside the garage with my heart a-flutter at the fortune of seeing my first tarantula since last September's over-the-door surprise.

But as I approached, I realized it was not moving. I lifted its rear leg with my keys, and the leg just curled gently under itself. After all this time, I had finally found another tarantula. And it was dead. As a doornail.

After a brief moment of disappointment, I thought about my Tarantula Hunting post, grinned wryly, and chuckled at the bitter irony.

...then I delighted at the wicked thought of leaving the thing on my roommate's car and the amazing shriek he would surely make, but since I wouldn't even be there to enjoy the show, I hopped in my car and went to work instead.