Things Jim Hates

There are many things that Jim hates. In fact, there is a whole list. Ranked, in order, the whole deal. He knows what he hates most.

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This story was originally published on Medium.

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If there was one thing Jim hated, it was when he was dripping sweat while trying to sleep in his bed. Admittedly, there wasn’t just one thing that he hated. There were plenty of things he hated. Spiders. Most bugs, in fact. Remakes of movies. Places that didn’t take reservations. 24-hour cancellation policies. Dried fruit. It’s fruit… the best part about it is the juiciness. Why are people drying it?

But the thing he hated most… was sweating while trying to sleep. Jim had this thing, he couldn’t sleep with no covers on him. Even if it wasn’t a blanket… or a quilt if you were from New England or a hundred years old… it had to at least be a sheet. Something. He couldn’t sleep with nothing on him. It felt like… like something was going to come get him. Some monster… a monster with a weakness for Egyptian cotton… a weakness against thread counts of any kind.

So, even in the dead of this heat… he needed a sheet. It was still light. But that, mixed with the incredulous heat of the night… was keeping him up… and keeping him sweaty.

It had hit 105 degrees Fahrenheit today. The sun had long ago set, but the night still was sitting at a very still 89. And Jim’s air conditioner was busted. There was no ceiling fan in the bedroom and he only had one small desk fan to circulate the air… poorly. Jim had contacted the landlord and “The soonest I could get someone out there to look at the AC would be Tuesday.”

No, Roger… the soonest you could get someone out here is the day I let you know. You are just waiting… because you suck.

Jim got out of bed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and made his way to the kitchen. He got a water bottle out of the fridge… he had planted it there hours ago… in preparation for this very moment. He sipped the ice cold water, felt the inside of his throat instantly cool. The rest of his body followed shortly after.

Perhaps that would be enough. He had drank half the bottle. He figured he’d save the rest. But it was still hot.

One more quick sip.

Cool. Refreshing.

The bottle went back in the fridge. The door was shut. And…

…a spider! Right there on the handle!

“Ugh!”

Jim shook his hand rapidly as if the spider touched him. It hadn’t… and it quickly retreated into a dark corner between the refrigerator and the wall.

“Great… it lives here now.”

Jim was back in bed… thinking about how the spider almost touched him. Gross. He hates thinking about that. He shivered just from the thought of a spider leg almost contacting his skin. He envisioned it. He saw it happening. Over and over.

That was no way to fall asleep. He had to think good thoughts.

His Philadelphia Eagles winning the Super Bowl. A nice hummus dip. Crisp celery sticks. An iced coffee with a shot of espresso. Pants that look dressy but feel like sweatpants. His eyes grew heavy. His bed was comfortable. His pillows were perfectly placed.

And then a spider! On his leg!

Jim shook his legs frantically to find he was suddenly on his stomach… even though, just a fraction of a second ago, he was on his back.

Wait a second. It was a dream?

He checked his leg. No spider.

It was just a dream.

But it felt so real. He felt the spider. He saw the spider. He checked his leg again. Nothing.

It was truly just a dream, so he laid his head back on his pillow and shut his eyes once again. Time to drift back to sleep again.

But he could feel… something. The hair on his leg moved. He swore it did. A tickle on his knee. The hair on his thigh moved, as if in a wind that wasn’t there.

Was this really happening? Or was he just imagining it because of the dream? Jim has done this to himself many times. He should just ignore it.

And then… a feeling… just on the bottom of his buttcheek.

Okay spider, that is far enough! In fact, that is really close to being WAY TOO FAR.

Jim shot up in bed. In one fell swoop, he swiped his phone off the nightstand, turned the light on, pulled his boxers down, and examined his butt with the flashlight. Nothing… but a bead of sweat.

Oh yeah. The sweat. The heat. That’s all it was. Though a bead of sweat could be mistaken for a spider.

Alright, a drink of water wasn’t going to cool his ass off, was it?

Jim headed to the bathroom. He ran the faucet until the water was as cold as it could get. He started splashing cold water onto his head, onto his hair, hoping to bring his body temperature down. He reached for the towel… but it wasn’t hanging where it normally was.

Water was dripping in his face, his hair hung in front of his eyes. He could hardly see.

Oh yeah. I hung it up in the shower.

Vision still impaired, Jim stepped into the shower, moving closer to the towel. He reached for the towel and just as he got a hand on it, he lost his footing in the tub, slick with splashed water from his ass-cooling-endeavor. He lurched backwards and crashed into the screen of the open window… crashed through the screen, and careened out the window.

He reached and reached, hoping to grab onto something… grabbing nothing. He fell down from his second floor apartment. The wind of his fast fall felt cool and nice for a moment… until he landed hard in some thick and scratchy bushes.

Jim laid still for a moment.

He took a deep breath.

Good, he was still alive. He realized he had his phone on him. He reached for it, his eyes hardly adjusting to the dark of the night. He turned the flashlight on. He could see he was laying in the big bush just outside of his bathroom window. Another foot to either side and he would’ve landed on hard dirt. Quite fortunate.

He felt something. On his legs. His arms. His buttcheeks. Once again.

Was he sweating again?

He shined the flashlight on his own body to see… hundreds of spiders… crawling all over him!

If there was one thing Jim hated… it was now spiders. And falling into a nest of hundreds of them. Yeah, that was his new least favorite thing.

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