Bullshitter Has Returned

Everyone, meet Churro. He was a gift, and while I have never been that interested in spiders, I love him. I'm still a little skittish to hold him, but I have no problem sticking my hand in to adjust his foliage and log. I've had exotic pets before, snakes and lizards, but this is my first arthropod. I have been fascinated with him eating. Normally a diet of crickets, but right now meal worms until my local pet store restocks. He's not very active during the day, as I believe they are more nocturnal, but he likes his little sprits of water in the mornings and evenings.

The last few years, I had a few different dogs, and I greatly missed their company after the divorce, so a loved one and their son, got me Churro to help me and give me something to focus on keeping alive besides myself. It has greatly improved my outlook on things lately. I have someone to talk to first thing in the mornings, and someone to greet when I get home from work. I say goodnight before I go to bed.

I want to improve his little setup, get him some nice real plants to help with the humidity and water in his little space. I want to get him set up on a nice book shelf with a clear view of the outside so he gets some natural light, as well as a lamp to help keep him at the right temperature, but all this with time.

Churro update!!!

Got Churro a 10 gallon tank with some real succulents and some really nice substrate!

Also! After some research, Churro is a girl (I apologized for misgendering her with a big cricket).

A picture or a video, a song that always gets played because of memories associated and shared.

The smile that creeps gently across my face when my phone flashes with your name;

The thought, the remembrance of your laughter.

I try not to think of my death as an absence of my life,

I shouldn't even Be talking to you, bobby pin, I should just be able to Casually throw you away.

Why shouldn't I be able to?

You weren't mine to begin with; You weren't ever meant to stay.

No, don't even go there.

You're making my hand tremble. Stop giving yourself Weight.

Without thought, with steady nerves.

But I am a reminder of life forgotten to the past,

I was dropped from the strands of hair I held in place,

Nestled now between the bed and floorboards of your mind and space;

My weight is memory, embraced by your tremoring hands.