What a way to go

If these are the last words I ever write, I hope you will remember me fondly.

To explain, I'm tapping this out during my lunch break after one of the longest working mornings I can remember.

And it's all because of IT.

I was about to make a cuppa for my two work colleagues and myself at around 9.30 when I first caught sight of IT.

IT was huge, IT had about 20 legs (although I'm assured it could only be eight), IT had huge eyes like a frog and I swear I could hear IT breathing.

Brave soldier till the last, I let out a huge shriek when IT first marched into view. Before, a minute or so later, my pal Liz arrived with two pieces of paper and a plastic folder to trap IT, take IT away and save me from certain death. At the claws of IT.

But, just as Liz got to within touching distance, I decided I was best "watching" the drama unfold from behind the safety of my door - which I promptly slammed shut.

What I did not expect next was the sight of IT running under said door and over my foot to join me.

And IT remains in my presence, right here in my room.

Somewhere. Lurking. Seething. And plotting.

Just me - and IT.

My appetite isn't as hearty as normal this lunchtime.

And I can only hope that IT is also off it's food.

I really don't want IT to eat me.

But deep down, I know IT will.