“Oh yeah, and one more thing,” mum continues.

The immunologist looks at her.

“Why is Brenda getting hairier? Look at her arms! The hair is getting longer! Is this caused by the medicine too?”

The immunologist looks at me. I simply shrugged and give him my usual ‘mum’s worrying too much again‘ look like I always do when she goes about her usual habit of bombarding him with endless questions every visit.

“Well, yeah. It is caused by the medicine,” the immunologist says. “But, is it any cause of concern to you, Brenda?”

“Well, no!” says I.

“I like being hairy. It keeps me nice, warm and fluffy.”

The expression on my immunologist’s face at that moment was epic. From that moment, I think he’s quite convinced that he’s dealing with a loon instead of a patient with autoimmune problems.

And no, I wasn’t being sarcastic. That’s actually 50% truth. I quite like being hairy … definitely not for the ‘nice and fluffy’ part, but well … it does keep me warmer than usual.

This is not the technical support centre!

The hastily handwritten sign now joins three existing passive-aggressive signs on the door.

Bottom line: No entry. Kthxbai.

Hey, I am not the technical support hotline. :(

And to put it very aptly in my dad’s terms, mum + iPhone = iSuffer.

After examining it a little closer (by standing on my bed), I deduced it to be a spider and wanted it dead like, nao. Creepy crawlies are so not welcome in my room.

I went outside to fetch a newspaper, intending to throw it upwards horizontally. This is so that it will nicely smack said spider and fall back down with its carcass, allowing me to pick it up and throw it away.

Arriving back in my room with my choice of weapon, I took aim.

Ready, get set, fire. The newspaper went flying upwards … in the wrong direction. It went up vertically instead, smacking the ceiling next to the spider with a loud thwack, and basically knocked the spider off the ceiling … causing it to land somewhere, quite possibly still alive.

Gosh, my aiming sucks. Fail #1.

And the spider still could be crawling somewhere in my room. Oh, damn it.

After a short hunt around, I decided to give up and resume whatever I was doing before having spotted that dratted thing … and that was when I spotted that dratted thing again.

Still on the ceiling.

I was puzzled. I thought I had already knocked it off the ceiling? Unless that spider had legs that allowed it to crawl at the speed of light? Or … were there two spiders instead?

Totally not relying on my own sucky aiming anymore, and called my mum for help.

Minutes later, mum stood on my bed, closely examining the black speck on the ceiling. Her face took on a puzzled expression, before she eventually burst into sniggers.

“Brenda, this is not a spider. It’s a housefly!”

Enemy identification fail. And that’s fail #2 for the day.

So, that explains how it could get back on the ceiling so quickly. At least there are no spiders after all, I wouldn’t like them spinning webs in various corners of my room.

The housefly is still at large. Darn it.

And I still can’t really tell insects apart at my age. Oh, how embarrassing.