In the window-sill next to my desk, there lives a spider who is slightly larger than a 10-cent coin. And it has weaved itself an ever-expanding habitat, of beautiful strands of silk (or at least sticky goo).
Occasionally, a strong wind or some other natural mishap makes gaping holes in the web. But, our friend just repairs its home as quickly as the forces of nature tear it apart. I'm quite impressed.
Often, I enjoy idly watching the spider drag its latest visitor into its snapping jaws. This is fascinating to behold—nature at work, I call it.
Sadly, our friend is growing old, and its movements are getting more stilted by the day. I fear that it's getting too near to the day when it will move no more, when I will have to farewell the one friend I have in my bedroom. And there will be no one to maintain the silky layers that adorn my window-sill.
Funny I never said anything kind of the mouse in my bedroom two years ago. Maybe it's because spiders don't munch on my chocolate, and don't munch on my rubbish bin liner when I'm sleeping. :-)