I'm quite sure Columbus arrived late summer, because it was still hot, and I vaguely recall the frustration of not being able to open my window at all- the summer breeze is perhaps one of the most pleasant feelings on Earth, and I was prevented from feeling it due to the spider in my window. When I opened my curtains, I would find Columbus there- but only half the time. Every time it disappeared, a wave of relief would wash through me- perhaps it had left, and crawled out of the window. However, I soon gave up such hopes, when I saw the accumulation of spider webs in the corner of my window. It looks like Columbus had decided to settle- permanently.
Since I had disliked the white light in my room, I had used a bright yellow lamp- which I had placed on my table, beside the window. As it turned out, the light had attracted small insects to my window--- where Columbus had weaved its web. I was feeding Columbus with my lamp. When I realised my mistake- it was far too late. I had removed the lamp- but Columbus was already fat- too fat to crawl out of the netted layer of my window. However, that did not seem to stress it in the slightest- it walked up and down my window, carrying its fat body- I was thoroughly disgusted- but I had little inclination to open my window and squash it with a shoe. It was fat. I wouldn't want to know what would happen if it was squashed.
Just as well- because a while later, I realised that Columbus wasn't just fat--- it was pregnant. I'm not sure whether the word "pregnant" applies to spiders- perhaps there is a technical term for it- but in the simplest sense- Columbus carried baby spider eggs inside it. How do I know? Because soon those eggs were laid in one of its thick webs- and I had missed them in that stage- but then they hatched. I watched with horror as tiny spiders ran in my window- oh it was a dreadful sight. Some made it into my room, through the tiny cracks- I killed what I can, and I can only hope that none had escaped- I would be greatly distressed if I found another spider's nest somewhere in my room.
Luckily for me, the majority of the spiders fell out of the netted layer of the window, and were carried away by the wind. Despite the reduction in the population, some had remained. They did not make it into my room, nor did they fall out. They simply stayed with Columbus- and I hoped for a miracle, where Columbus would eat all the other spiders then kill itself. Too bad miracles don't happen. Soon they grew, just as Columbus did- then they, too, were too big to leave the window through the netted layer. I observed their daily activity with growing despair- sometimes I would tap the window where a spider stood- and startle it. That was somewhat amusing, but the spiders had provided me with more fear than amusement.
So I ignored them. I knew that they were there, but I continued to do nothing about it. After I had stopped thinking about them, we were able to coexist- they would crawl all over the window, and I would not care, because it was not inside my room.
Then, roughly a week ago, I noticed a giant spider carcass. It was massive, for the species of spider which inhabited my window. It is most likely Columbus, since it is the only one with an opportunity to reach that size, and die the earliest. I watched it with a strange sadness. Then I noticed the appearance of more spider carcasses- it seems that they were all dying, slowly. I assume it is because I cut off their food supply- the lamp had been removed, and the number of insects which had arrived at my window were decreased dramatically. As a result most of them would died due to the diminishing food supply. However, some remains- and I am staring at one of them as I write.
I realise now, with a sense of fulfillment, that I had witnessed the life cycle of these spiders in my own window. It is a rather peculiar experience. Despite marveling at the magnificence of nature... I still wish that my window was clear of spiders. Perhaps I should consider buying a bottle of spider-killing chemicals.
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