Our recent brief deluge seems to have driven the arachnids inside. I intercepted a tick on my thigh, on the way to no-man's-land. And another on my knee. And a spider hanging out on the base of the shower stall. Of course, I suspect they hitched a ride on Hick's about-the-grounds clothing, rather than scurrying about in black-and-white striped shirts and black bandit masks, seeking entry under the front door in the dead of night.
Both ticks were given a free pass on our subterranean water slide. The same fate was planned for Mr. Spider. He had other ideas.
Mr. Spider was tiny by Backroads standards. Nothing like the Diomedes fishing spider that Hick has twice hauled into the house, to show me. He was half the size of a dime. But you never can be quite sure when Mr. Spider is Mrs. Spider, full of tiny babies that will jump off her back when she is jostled.
I thought I would quickly squeeze Mr. Spider between a couple of squares of toilet paper, and send him on his watery thrill ride. But no. He had other ideas. Namely, charging me like a madman when I reached down to the baseboard where he had scurried. CHARGED ME! Came running straight at my sock foot. Like John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn charging Lucky Ned Pepper, guns ablazin', in True Grit.
Of course I stepped aside. No spider is going to run up my leg slick as a whistle. No sirree, Bob! Mr. Spider was so speedy, he was a blur moving across the shower mat, onto the tile. I watched in horror as he disappeared into the air conditioning vent.
Please, please, please...don't let a shower of spider babies shoot out onto my face as I sleep.
The secret to dispatching spiders is to turn your hair dryer on hot on them. Listen to Mrs. Tuna, she has experience in these matters.
ReplyDeleteAnd did you hear the spider shout, "Fill your hands, you son-of-a-b**ch!" before it charged at you?
ReplyDeleteIt must be something in the water that is making spiders brazen. I had the same thing happen to me earlier in the week. I had killed two the night before (beating them with an empty QT cup, which took lots of whackings and smackings until I got a non-hollow part of the cup in contact with the spiders) and then the next evening, I went after one with a shoe, and it actually turned around and came after me. But I showed it who was who...
When they do something valiant like that, I sort of feel like they earn their freedom. Just enough to scurry off into the sunset. If he comes back, hair dry him. Hairspray will slow them down a bit first.
ReplyDeleteThose bathroom spiders are the worst tricksters of all.
ReplyDeleteOh yeah, I had an attack one too. Read Sioux's comment section.
ReplyDeleteOur son just found a brown recluse spider in his shower. Yuk!
ReplyDelete"subterranean water slide" there's a great euphemism. Hope that vicious spider doesn't do a Tom Cruise mission impossible ceiling drop down to hack into your computer while you sleep. On the other hand he might put up an interesting blog post about attacking a bonkers woman coming at him with a wad of toilet paper.
ReplyDeleteMrs.,
ReplyDeleteI gladly listen to your solution. But you seem to have me confused with a woman who cares about her appearance.
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Sioux,
Clearly, there's a conspiracy afoot x 8. These spiders are ingesting the same bath salts or altered cannabis that makes those zombie people eat faces.
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Tammy,
Have you met Mrs. Tuna? I think you two must have gone to the same seminar on using everyday grooming items to combat household pests.
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Joanne,
But not quite as devious as the dreaded bathroom crickets. I'll take a spider any day over a jumpy cricket.
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Linda,
Went there. Did that. May I suggest that you drop the broom and pick up the blow dryer and hairspray? Two out of seven of Val's commenters recommend them.
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Stephen,
So the recluse appears to be more social than anticipated. Somewhat of a swinger, even.
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Leenie,
He's probably wearing a little spider sweater with eight sleeves, and "Don't try to smash me, or you might end up on my blog" on the front.
The only thing that I hate worse than a spider is an aggressive spider!
ReplyDeleteMama Zen,
ReplyDeleteI concur. Mr. Spider charged me like I was a Super Bowl quarterback dropping into the pocket, my team down by 6, with :01 left in the fourth quarter.
I pulled a tick out of my freshly shampooed hair! He was crushed to death with a hammer, then sent to the septic lagoon (not to be confused with the blue lagoon ......)
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteDang! You're hard core. Not just a blow dryer and hairspray, but a HAMMER in your primping area.
LOL hammer in the primping area. There's gotta be a good story there.
ReplyDeleteLeenie,
ReplyDeleteI'm hoping it was left over from Kathy's recent bathroom remodel. Which resulted in several good stories.