Friday, September 17, 2010
Along came a spider
But THIS guy was way ahead of me. It took a moment for my misfortune to register and by the time I got to my feet, confused cats spilling onto the floor, he had scuttled under the couch. I never had a chance to pick up a flip flop. Aack! I swept the broom blindly around under there, feeling ridiculous. Did I really think he'd grab on and ride out into the room where I'd have a clear shot at him? I spent the rest of the evening uneasily in the furthest chair, afraid to take my eyes off the couch. I pictured him sneaking around behind the furniture, tiptoeing stealthily up behind me, and droppping gleefully onto my throat. He knew I'd kill him unless he killed me first. I went to bed, miserably aware I might not live until tomorrow.
Then last night, while I was occupied in my bathroom, something horrifying moved in the dim bedroom. Oh yes. The spider was coming to find me. He was inches from the bedside table, and if I didn't get over there quick with a flip flop, he would escape, so help me God, UNDER MY BED. With one second to spare I grabbed the only available weapon, a squirt bottle filled with not-very-deadly rubbing alcohol, vinegar, and the magic killing ingredient, a few drops of dish soap (Hey, it does a good job and it's really cheap). I aimed and pulled the trigger but unfortunately the nozzle was on springtime spray instead of laser blast, so I only dampened him and probably made all eight of his eyes sting, but he had enough steam to stumble blindly around the lamp base and behind the headboard. In a panic--he was getting away--I continued to mist him with bathroom cleaner, but then he disappeared. UNDER MY BED.
Aside from realizing that I need to use the vacuum attachment to suck up the dustbunnies back there, I now know there is a massive, dizzy, desperately angry (but sanitary) spider somewhere under my bed, who may or may not have succumbed to the effects of homemade bathroom cleaner. If I could lift the bed and look, I would. He could kill me tonight. Or not.
I don't think this living alone thing is working out so well.