SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 10:28 A.M.

Flies: About the same, I think. No more or less. Except they seem . . . bigger, somehow. Maybe they have taken my suggestion after all and started to eat the spiders?

Spiders: 4 in the shower, 6 in my bedroom, 1 in my bed.

The less said about that the better.

Moving on. This is weird. Mom was freaking out last night (but not over spiders, which any reasonable person would freak out over) because she couldn’t find her striped sweater. Not just any sweater, her *favorite* striped sweater. Which she suddenly needed to attend some department function. As if those eco-geeks care what anyone wears, as long as it’s made from hemp.

Anyway, she came into my room and accused me of stealing her sweater. Unfair! Okay, yes, I have borrowed it on a few occasions. True. But in my defense, it looks better on me than on her. And anyway, I didn’t take it! It’s not like I’ve got anyone to impress here in Idaho—not even eco-geeks. Well, I guess there’s Raph, but . . . yeah, it would have to be a pretty magical sweater to turn him straight, so. Point is, I did not take her sweater. Swear to God.

And I told Mom this, but she didn’t believe me, so she opened up my closet to look for it, and in very dramatic fashion she turns around, holding up the missing sweater like she’s Sherlock Holmes or something.

And that’s weird, because I swear I have not even seen that sweater in months. But what’s even weirder is that I notice over her shoulder . . . there are three other sweaters. Three other striped sweaters. That are totally identical to the one in her hands.

I pointed this out to Mom, and she agreed that it was weird, but idk, she deals with this stuff better than I do. Because while my whole body went cold and clammy, she just laughed. “Guess our astral roommates were a little bored tonight,” she says in a too-loud voice, as if she figures they are listening. And I just cannot deal with that. I’m like, MOM. This isn’t funny, this is seriously freaky. Isn’t it?

But all she says is, someone just gave you free clothes, honey. Are you really going to complain?

Point: Mom.