The incident with the Spider
It’s only been a few days, but I’ve learned one of the pitfalls of living on your own. There’s no one else to get rid of the spiders!
I’ve had arachnophobia for as long as I can remember; even small spiders see me running from the room. The beast that shared my bathroom this evening was far from small, I recognize it as a wolf spider. If you don’t know what that is, just imagine a spider with long legs that’s almost the size of the palm of your hand. I don’t care what it’s called right now though; it’s a bloody squatter. As I’m paying the rent on this house, it’s getting evicted.
Don’t ask me why my eyes were drawn to the side of the toilet u-bend, I’ve no idea. I’d gone into the bathroom to answer a call of nature and nearly wet myself in fear. The offending beast was sitting there large as life on the bathroom wall, half hidden by a water pipe. I looked around the bathroom, finding nothing suitable in reach. With my back to the wall and my eyes on my uninvited guest I slicked my way into the kitchen. Nothing! It comes to something when the only thing suitable to deal with a spider is a wooden spoon. I had nothing longer. Picking up a can of fly spray as back up I braved my way back to the bathroom. He was still there. I shuddered.
Edging closer as slowly as I could my eyes never left the interloper. My whole body was braced for even the slightest hint of movement from the eight-legged monster. The handle of the wooden spoon suddenly felt way too small, I would have been more comfortable with something six foot in length that shot flames and electrocuted the little bugger.
I shrieked as a leg showed signs of movement. My whole body was on edge and my heart was beating as though it was trying to escape my chest.
‘Listen you little fucker!’ I screeched. ‘I’m paying the rent here and there’s no room for lodgers.’ I hissed. Turning the fly spray on him, I gave it my all.
Now normally fly spray is a choking but fine mist. Not when you aim most of a can at an Olympic record paced spider as it races around the bathroom wall towards you. No, when you have it on almost constant spray it kind of turns into foam. I’m not sure if the spider started suffocating, but at least he started to slow down just as he came to the radiator I was cowering next to. Before he made it to the safety of the rear of the radiator I let loose with the wooden spoon. I beat that little fekker to death. I have no shame over this; I don’t care if it was one of God’s creatures. At that moment in time – it was him or me.
I looked down at the wooden spoon in disgust. That would have to go in the bin, along with the squished remains of my unwanted visitor. Now, if you’re a fellow arachnophobe you’ll understand that it couldn’t go in the kitchen bin. That was far too risky, despite his squished and very dead state, there’s that part of you that still believes the little sod will come back to life in the night and come and get you! With that in mind I opened the back door, raised the bin lid and disposed of the spider spoon with haste.
I rushed back into the house, slamming the door behind me and checking it was locked. My skin was still crawling at the thought of what I’d just seen and experienced.
When I finally stopped shaking, I gave myself a mental high five; I’d just survived my first spider.