August 6th 1992
Dearest diary, sorry that I haven't written in quite some time. Maris had misplaced this book after she borrowed it one evening without my knowledge. It appears that she had seen an arachnid from the corner of her eye one evening and didn't want to go to bed empty handed. Thus, she took my diary to bed as a weapon. Just the other night, I heard such a commotion that I dashed from my room and into Maris' in fear of her safety. She was in the corner of the room clouting something on the floor. I rushed to her aid. She was trembling and angry. She had taken down her first spider. I just couldn't take this victory from her. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was a dust ball. If she would have known the truth, she would have had all of the cleaning staff fired by sunrise.