This afternoon I noticed a spider between two beams right above my chair by the dining table. Its body is quite small, but it has long, thin, articulated legs. It has spun an almost invisible net just under the ceiling. The net stretches across the width of the livingroom, but it never goes beyond the two beams. Every now and then I look up to check on its progress. The spider moves hither and thither all the time. Now it is right above me, and now it is quite far from the table. It must be checking its net, but in vain, for there are no more flying insects around. Sealed by bitter frosts, the season is over, and it cannot survive without food for too long. I will keep looking up, though. Now that the spider has fallen into my own almost invisible net, it will feed my curiosity for a few more days at least. As well as my hungry notebook.

Addendum I (November 28, 2008)

The plot thickens. Today I checked the space between the two beams, and I discovered two spiders rather than one. They are at two opposite ends of the long and narrow stretch, which probably means that they are a couple. If that is the case, they will soon leave a bunch of fertilized eggs in some corner, so that I will not be left alone even after they go to meet their maker. Wow! My livingroom is a veritable zoo.

Addendum II (January 7, 2009)

Having forgotten the two spiders for more than a month, today I remembered them out of the blue. It did not take me long to find them both. One lied crumpled on the livingroom floor, which I do not sweep clean all that often. The other hung crumpled on a strand of its own cobweb attached to the livingroom ceiling, which I never sweep clean. As for the eggs, I could not find them anywhere, but I am still sure that the spiders’ progeny is quietly waiting somewhere near me. One way or another, this seems to be the end of this sad little story about the zoo that is my livingroom.