Making Change

A tiny white spider is trapped in the far right penny slot of the cash drawer at work. Maybe he's trapped, but maybe he just lives there. I doubt this slot is so much a home as a prison. I feel this way because at the end of everyday I move him from one drawer to another, removing him from his former abode and into one he is forced to become acquainted with, only to move again in the morning. Which in actuality is not at all miserable, but I can not help but feel slightly depressed everyday I look down at him.

I want to help him out, in the literal sense, but I also want him to figure this out on his own. I know he is clever enough but just needs a little encouragement. Maybe tomorrow, if he's still there (which is more than probable), I will create a makeshift bridge for him out of a ticket stub and see if he catches on.

Yeah, that's what I'll do.

It's also very possible this "he" is a "she," but I do not know how to accurately tell the sex of a spider, especially one so tiny.

Alison