This is an exceptionally busy time of year for me because, you
see, it’s officially spider season.
This is an exceptionally busy time of year for me because, you see, it’s officially spider season. I know this because this morning I found one lurking on the wall behind the toaster – waiting, I suspect, for me to finish my cup of coffee before making its move to take over the kitchen.
All right. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that no self-respecting person would afraid of a little spider. Snakes, mice, big dogs – sure. But a spider? You’re thinking that everyone knows that most of the time they’re harmless and eat annoying insects and, at least in classic children’s literature, have a heart of gold. On top of that, you’re thinking that I could be better utilizing my time by worrying about real dangers like say, the sky-rocketing crime rate, global warming, and the increasing national debt, because, you see, no one has ever been mugged by a wolf spider in their kitchen.
And, yes, on some deeper level I know this. But, hey, it’s a spider. A SPIDER.
Everyone knows what seeing one wandering around loose in the house means. It means that, most likely, there are millions, perhaps trillions, of other ones still in hiding. They’re hanging out in your good shoes or in the back of hall closet, biding their time, quietly spinning webs. Until one day you awake to find all of your daughter’s Barbie dolls wrapped inside an exceptionally large cocoon and the cat tied to the television antenna.
So it follows that during spider season I have to be especially vigilant. I have to inspect every corner of my house for spider webs and then determine 1) how long ago it was made 2) how big of a spider made it, and 3) if the original owner is gone for good or merely on vacation – and, if so, where, exactly, did it GO?
But, really, even if I knew, I still wouldn’t be safe because, you see, I made the mistake of living on a planet that, everyone knows, is full of spiders.
Face it, with spiders, you mostly have two choices. The first is that you can always find a big stick and, as they say in some circles, “whack it.” However, this is not only vicious and cruel, everyone knows that if you miss, you will then have a really mad spider limping around your house, rousing all of the others into some kind of horrible retaliation. Besides, what kind of example is that for your children?
The second choice, one that’s much more politically correct, is to simply relocate it. Preferably by air, and to the next state. But of course this would involve coming close enough to touch it. My friend Shirley is good at this. One time she used nothing but a yellow sticky note to scoop up a particularly persistent gray spider and deposit it on the front lawn – where it took two days to make it back into the house and the whole thing started over again.
The good news is if neither of these choices is for you, you can always yell “AHHHHHHHHHHH,” and then run into the bathroom and lock the door.
I’m not sure how good this idea works yet. But I must say that, so far, there’s no sign of any spiders in here. And, yes, I’ll come out eventually. Just as soon as spider season is over.
