WARNING: This post is about spiders. But I promise there are no photos (at least not of spiders).
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m fairly terrified of spiders. In fact, I’m not a fan of bugs in general. Daddy longlegs freak me out, ever since a traumatic shower incident on a family holiday; we were staying in the middle of the countryside and I didn’t realise the bathroom window was open… Bees are fine, if they keep their distance, but wasps are pure evil, and seem to serve no actual purpose, so I don’t know why we need to have them at all.
Anyway, when I lived at home, my dad would always get rid of spiders for me, which was very kind of him. But then I moved out and suddenly I had to deal with these things on my own.
For a long time, I adopted the ‘stay out of its way’ approach, effectively giving the spider the run of my house while I cowered in a corner watching its every move. But clearly that wasn’t going to work long-term. After all, if I ever have kids, I might be called on to deal with spiders, and I don’t think the children will understand if I tell them to leave the nice spider in peace and come and hide in the bathroom with me until their dad comes home. (I’m naturally assuming that my future – and, as yet, imaginary – husband will be good at this sort of thing.)
So these days I have a spider pot, and a bit of cardboard, or sometimes a magazine in desperate times, and I find if I do it fast, it’s usually okay. (If I stop to think about it, either I chicken out or the spider wanders off and hides.) I trap it and put it out on my balcony, then close the door and spend the rest of the day congratulating myself on such a feat of courage and skill.
I say it’s usually okay, because I have had a couple of disasters. There was the time when, just as I was approaching with the pot, the spider jumped (I’m not even joking, it really did). At which point I panicked and dropped the magazine on it. This might have been fine, except it was quite a heavy magazine, and I ended up with one very squished spider. Oops. As much as I hate them, I prefer them to leave alive.
And then there was yesterday, when I got home to find a massive spider on my living room curtain (and by massive, I mean it was too big for my usual spider pot). After an hour of sitting watching it out of the corner of my eye, and trying to figure out how to remove it without a wall to trap it against, I decided to give it a go. All went well to begin with, but then the spider started trying to escape from the pot, and I ended up throwing everything – pot, cardboard and spider – out the door, with what was I suspect a particularly girly scream.
I have no idea what happened to the spider; it’s probably still out there, suffering from concussion. But it’s gone, and I still spent the evening patting myself on the back, albeit with a slightly red face, and very much appreciating the fact that there were no imaginary children there to see my attempts at eviction.
Any other spider haters with a story to share? Or are you a brave soul with a recommended spider eviction method for the rest of us?
But that’s enough about spiders. Here’s a photo of a penguin to cheer us all up.