Bugging Out

Lately we've been getting a lot of spiders in the house. And not your wussy garden-variety spider; we're talking big ones, the kind that can make eye contact with you and stare you down while your shoe-clutching hand hovers over its body.

I know spiders are supposed to be good luck, or something, but I view them as a sign that God hates me and wants me to think that every time my duvet randomly sags onto my leg at night, it means it's falling under the weight of a giant arachnid that's making its way up to my face for some dinner. And they ARE coming after me. Just the other day, I lifted my arm to take a drink of water, and as I lowered it again, I suddenly saw a blur of motion in my periphery; right where my arm was about to plop against the arm of the couch, a giant spider was cruising along almost camouflaged against the pattern. Thank God I sensed motion, or else I COULD HAVE DIED. Or, you know, touched it. With my skin. My precious SKIN. And last night, I picked up my pillows to sit up in bed and read, and a Daddy Longlegs appeared out of nowhere and scuttled over to Kevin's side of the bed. I had to kill it on his pillow. (Don't worry, Kevin, I sort of scooped it with a paper towel and pinched.)(And don't worry, everyone else; I totally told him about it before he put his head there.)(I think.)(Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got to him in time.)

Oh, I've tried to be merciful. We had one in the kitchen the other day and I told Kevin we could maybe try to redeposit it outside rather than squish it, but the poor bastard accidentally died while we were trying to get it to scoot onto a magazine. And I'll be damned if I'm carrying a fast-moving behemoth from my bathroom floor -- yes, there was one, and the bitch could sprint -- all the way to the front door, because in that time it could fall away or get lost or crawl into my shirt or my HAIR and then I would have to lie down and let the coma come.

I've also tried to inform myself: Since we get Black Widow spiders in the Valley and a friend in Northridge had a Brown Recluse in her garage, I've taken to staring at them as closely as I can (before I scream like a baby and close my eyes and KILL KILL KILL) to see if there are any markings. Because clearly, one day, something more nefarious than a Daddy Longlegs is going to come for me in my sleep and I'm going to die of its poison. Unfortunately, now every brown spider I see, I have decided is a Brown Recluse. They like to live in cardboard! I HAVE BOXES IN MY HOUSE. It could happen.

It could be worse. I'll take spiders over other bugs which shall not be mentioned here. The neighbors across the street constantly leave their front door open, with no screen, all the livelong day. This gives me hives. Don't they KNOW? Don't they SEE that THINGS, creepy-crawly things, will be wandering free as you please into their house? I'm sure this has something to do with ventilation, or clinical insanity, but the point remains: How can they LIVE LIKE THAT? Where is their fear? I lock the door when there are moths outside it.

But you know why I bet they don't care? They have two boys. All this has made me, for the first time, want to have boys myself. Not that I will otherwise be totally bumming if I get pregnant with a boy, but I don't GET boys. I'm one of three girls. They scare me enough; I don't know how to handle boys. They (stereotypically) like gross things. They give each other coathook wedgies in the PE locker rooms. But you know what they're good for, aside from love and all that? Pest control. I can give them entire illustrated books on spiders and other insects, and vermin, and they'll be all up in that grill and can handle all the bug-related emergencies that might pop up when Kevin is not around to be my hero. It's going to be great. They'll be their pathetic mother's Bug Relocation Army. Never mind the fact that I am freaked out by stupid spiders and am convinced they want to kill me probably means I'm going to be a totally moronic parent.

Comments

[jen]

I've been getting them a lot also. Often in the shower when I'm naked. I had to drown a HUGE one this morning. Thank God for the hand-held shower head.

[Kate F]

...I could have written this. Especially about the death and comas if (god forbid, knock wood, etc) one of them TOUCHES ME. We have had a spider-free spring so far (KNOCK WOOD) but I think it's because it's so wet right now. Last summer we got a hatch of them around July, agh.

Agh.

[Ryan]

I totally feel you about the zero-tolerance policy regarding Spiders and Skin, and how the World Might End if the former touched the latter.

But as a person who grew up reading Charlotte's Web, I just can't kill them.

So. My solution is the Cup & Card system. When you see a spider, take a glass and trap it under the glass. Then slide something thin and rigid under the glass. Voila! Safely trapped spider (and therefore a clean conscience) and no skin contact (thereby averting the Apocalypse). At this point, you can calmly walk outside--holding the cup at arms length, natch--and with one quick motion, drop/throw the spider out into the world. And who knows, maybe THAT spider will one day go on to save the life of a little piggy, and teach a small town a valuable lesson in the process.

[Suzanne]

Hmmmm. I agree with Ryan about the Cup and Card (or Large Sheet of Rigid Paper, or a Magazine Cover) solution. It's hard to do the first few times, but you can shriek the entire time while doing it (I usually do.)

Charlotte's Web aside, I try not to kill them just because *they* kill other bugs. Like that Daddy Long Legs that freaked you out? Spider lunch. And any creature that can make a dent in the ginormous mosquito population that just -loves- my backyard is fine by me. :)

[Suzanne]

but then again, I've never had to do this to a spider that was bigger, in total, than a quarter. One larger than that? that can scuttle really fast? ...

*shudders*

[Heather]

I LOVE Charlotte's Web. But for some reason I find it very easy to separate her loveliness from the crazy monster heading towards my feet. :)

[Blonde Savant]

God, spiders are the DEVIL! At my childhood house we would get those huge tunnel building garden spiders. One morning when I was about seven or eight, I woke up with one of them crawling ON MY FACE! Over my eye!! Needless to say, I was completely traumatized.
Even more disturbing though are these bugs that we used to get that we called Potato Bugs. The look like a mutated cross between an ant, a bee, and a locust. Fortunately, they're not very mobile. Freak yourself out here: www.potatobugs.com

[Andrea]

I'd seriously rethink that whole "boys are good for spider-killing" thing, if I were you.

The last black widow my husband found is now living as a GUEST in my KITCHEN. Sure, she's in a container and sure, my husband does catch all the other spiders in the house to feed to her, but honestly. Poisonous creatures were not meant to be pets.

[Allyson]

Holy $%#^, Blonde Savant! I got the heebie jeebies just from the first picture at www.potatobugs.com. Monsters! I apparently had confused potato bugs with roly polies which are not nearly as horrifying and almost cute as they roll up and utilize the if-I-can't-see-you-you-can't-see-me defense tactic. But wikipedia has set me straight and I've now had a whole bug education I really could have done without. BLECH!

[Jessica]

I don't mind spiders. But that was not the case for my roommate Jen, who was getting dressed early one morning and looked down just in time to see that there was a spider....in the crotch of the very undies she was in the midst of putting on.

THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!

[Jennifer]

My beloved roomate once had to run into the bathroom, whilst I was on the toliet, (I'm sorry for the TMI), because I was being "attacked" by spider that was crawling towards me and I was unable to stop what I was doing to get away. I screamed bloody murder and she walked in, completely non plussed, squashed it and walked out. I will forever be greatful to her.

I'm with everyone here about the spider on the skin thing- quite possibly the worst thing ever. Also when they move. I can kill it if it stands still- I cannot kill if that bastard attempts to move - I'm just frozen in terror. I'm convinced there's a special place in hell for spiders.

I hate bugs in general, so whenever i can't get someone to kill them for me, i scoop my cat up, carry her to the place where the bug is, and hold her near it while she takes cater of business.

[Alison]

The whole "boys are good at pest control" thing? Not so much with my husband. I kill the spiders (well, take them outside anyway) and he takes care of the millipedes, which I hate and which I swear to God stalk me.