You know what scares me? Wait, I should rephrase that because I briefly addressed that particular topic already. What I should have asked was “Do you know what is scaring me right now?” Because the answer isn’t everything, it’s spiders.

Not really the plural. It’s one spider. I got home from work with the intention of typing this blog post for tomorrow (which is now today – technology has a wonderful way of messing with the linearity of time which it calls “Scheduled Posting” – and I love it), only to find out I was sharing my bed with a rather large eight legged friend (see: “fiend”). I wasn’t particularly bothered by this, because like with most “creepy” things I found him rather endearing. That is until he did that thing that all spiders seem so intent on doing. He moved. I jumped up to capture the rogue-rambling arachnid, but alas I was not quick enough. He had vanished. And now I am bothered by it, because I know it’s hiding here somewhere. I know at some point I’ll have to address it, just not right now.

This seems to be a somewhat recurring factor in my life because as Charlie might tell you when pushed, I’m not great with being super-ahead of deadlines. To elaborate, let’s say I have an idea for an Alfonso arc. I know where it begins, ends, and I know all the little fiddly bits in the middle. And I’m fine with that. But then Charlie might politely imply that the comic arc would get done a lot faster if he was actually given a story to draw. I, in return, will insist that I will send him said writings post-haste. And then I don’t. I know at some point I’ll have to address it, but I’m concerned that when I do I won’t know where those stories are anymore. Not literally of course, but I’m not sure if I can get the right tone or feeling for them again. I leave it as late as I can, waiting silently for a small tendril of the story to creep out from under a book, a stuffed animal or even a tiny hole in the wall and then BAM. I catch the story in a glass and give it over to Charlie. Or slam it with a shoe and commit myself to starting again. It’s not a perfect analogy I’ll admit – but the rhythmic tap-tap-tapping of the keyboard seemed to draw Paul (I called the spider Paul) out from hiding. Clearly he has a curiosity for blog writing that far surpasses his instincts for creeping just out of view.

In other news (see: “rambling alternative to a point”) we did a wonderful post for Friday the 13th. It began with me sending a message to Charlie saying “Shall we give a shout out to our boy Vorhees?”, and was followed with a finished image twenty minutes later. When it comes to deadlines I admit I have a bizarre approach, but Charlie is not without a few quirks himself. We’ll save a discussion on his inability to take a break and the eternal question of when he finds time to sleep for another day.

Meanwhile, what have I done? Well I trapped that story under a whisky tumbler and slid a small flyer underneath and… Let’s just forget the metaphor. It wasn’t good to begin with and Paul’s now safely gallivanting about the garden. I finished writing the instalments for this Alfonso arc. It’s done. I even had the time to roughly outline a Halloween special. So there.

In fairness I’m probably just going to leave it till the last minute to give them to Charlie, if for nothing else than to just keep up appearances.