The only thing growing on my tomato plant is the big, huge, hairy, multi-spotted spider that has set up a household in it.
Let just say it’s not the kind of spider you’d name a cartoon character after. The web is as big as the tires on my car, and I swear, it has a mini gourmet kitchen in it.
OK, getting back to my green tomatoes: I have been doing everything the garden lady has said to do on the previous page, but alas, it’s no use. It’s not that it is not producing tomatoes. It is. It’s just they are not turning red.
My plant is in its own pot, and whenever I see it’s not getting enough sun, I quickly run out and put it in a sunny spot, spider and all. I am assuming the spider thinks there’s been an earthquake every time I move it, for it hangs on for dear life, its poor web in shambles, dishes flying everywhere.
But every morning, it’s back up there with a new web, sitting in the middle of my tomato plant keeping a quiet vigil. It must be catching prey. It’s getting bigger and bigger.
I imagine I am going to have to do hand-to-hand combat with it when it comes to picking my veggies. If they ever ripen!
Speaking of spiders, what about those daddy longlegs that like to hang in my bathroom shower? Does anyone else have this problem? I call them the Peeping Tom daddy longlegs, or PTDs for short. When I am taking a shower, they just sit up there and watch. It does not seem to matter how many times I knock them down into the drain, the next morning there they are again.
I mean, what do they do? Spring a web as they are going down the shower drain, then pull themselves back out like mountain climbers? And I swear they just hang there watching me as I lather up. I say, “I see you up there!” as they quickly turn away like they are not watching, all eight of their eyes turning upward like they’re examining something on the roof while whistling a tune. What’s up with that?
I would be more flattered that they were watching me, but they are arachnids.
I think secretly they are little mini robots that the government has created to spy on its citizens. Really, I have seen it on the sci-fi channel. They have little cameras that send their signals back to the main big brother spidey computer in the sky.
OK, I’ve taken way this too far. But really, why do they keep coming back, and why aren’t my tomatoes turning red? (Conspiracy.)
Note: Between writing the above and submitting it to the paper, the spider has packed its bags and moved over to the water spout, and I’m fixing to make some fried green tomatoes. Paula Deen would be so proud.
Michael Larson is a 14-year resident of Felton and an aspiring comedy writer. He lives with his dog Blue. Contact him at
mi***************@ya***.com
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