Don't even get me started on the chiming clock, either. I heard every one of its 24 chimes. I shoulda ripped the batteries out

I'm not really sure if it was the spider in the towels I was folding on the bed Thursday, or the one that crawled out from under the dresser. Maybe it was the centipede in the empty laundry basket in the basement, or the one I found later when I returned with the can of Raid; the thing was just chilling on the lid of the washing machine, like "Hey, dude in the basket, come up here, the view's great."

I'm not even sure it was the way I made a puddle of Raid over one of the spiders in the bedroom and it ever so eerily got up and walked out of it unscathed like it was some mutant spider creature, brushing that Raid off its shoulders.

I'm pretty sure it wasn't the, um, sickness that Big had mid-walk. I'm equally sure the temperature of the house or the uncomfortable sagging on the couch that I slept on for fear of spider retribution wasn't why this weekend was so long and dull.

I was just ... bored? Lonely? Tired?

I was looking forward to Dave being in Tennessee because it meant I could watch those movies that are usually reserved for junior high sick days -- Lifetime afternoon movie-viewing -- I'm talking "Terms of Endearment" type stuff. I want to see tears. Leg warmers. I want to hear synthesizers in the soundtrack. I had books from the library, a stack of DVDs and two magazines. I was set.

But it stunk. And not just because that movie should never have won an Oscar.

It was the longest weekend of my Wisconsin life. It was so quiet. If it weren't for the friends who invited me over to watch a movie on Friday, I would've had no more human contact than a "yeah, cut it short" to the hairstylist all weekend.

And of course, when Dave came home last night, the weekend immediately sped up. By the time I had put away my postcards from him, it was Sunday and I was at work.

Three days alone in a house is a long time, especially for someone who has not spent a night alone here. It's a creepy house, this place is. Creeeee-p-y.

And I'm a strong, independent woman here, but let's get realistic. Nothing with more than four legs should be allowed in my house. And next time, I'm going with Dave.