September. The best time of the year. Warm days and cold nights. The best of both worlds. You can get a bit of warmth on your face but you can sleep at night too.
The only downside is those arachnid fucks who insist on trespassing into my house. MY HOUSE. The barefaced cheek of them. They don't even knock and they've 8 limbs to do it with. There's no excuse. It's not good when you're on edge in your own home. When you're afraid to open a window in case you get an unwanted visitor.
An unwanted visitor who seems get bigger and hairier with every passing year. There were no big spiders when i was young. Now they're the size of the palm of your hand. And you can hear them scuttle. Scuttle. What a terrifying, unpredictable word. When you can hear a scuttle it implies size, weight, substance, DANGER. There's only one way to deal with them. None of this namby pamby picking them up and returning them to nature. Nope. You've got to pulverise them. Show them who's boss. Send em back to the hell dimension they came from. I recommend a good solid paperback thrown from a safe distance. It's messy but it's satisfying.
You've got to protect your castle.
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