Itsy Bitsy Asshole

This is how it went down.

I was climbing into bed last night, glass of wine and cat in hand.  I was going to cuddle up and watch Pretty In Pink until I fell asleep (one reason I’ll miss my laptop).  Right away, Harper was totally fixated on the ceiling.  No surprise, she likes to stare at the ceiling.  But, I happened to glance up and noticed a large dark shadow in the crevice between the ceiling and wall just adjacent to my wardrobe.

I turned up the light and, sure enough, there was a HUGE spider where I had seen the shadow.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

There are no words to describe how terrified I am of spiders.  Even little ones.  Hell, all bugs, even ants.  The spider was brown, so I immediately decided that it was a wolf spider, who are mean little fuckers.

I considered leaving it be, but it was so close to my wardrobe that I feared our next meeting would occur between my foot and the spider in one of my shoes.  So, I scampered into the kitchen and grabbed the nastiest stuff I could find, Raid.

Back in the room, the spider had not moved, nor had Harper.  I climbed onto the bed, standing on the corner on the balls of my feet.  “Sorry about this,” I muttered before drowning him (her?) in Raid.  Or, so I thought.  The spider dropped to the floor and started crawling away, albeit slowly.

“Shit!  Fuck fuck.”

Back to the kitchen I ran, quickly grabbing a mound of paper towels.  In the bedroom, Harper was a few inches away from the spider when I shooed her away.  The last thing I needed was a poisoned cat with a spider bite.  I pressed down as hard as I could, squealing the entire time.  When I let go of the soft mound, I saw a single spider leg trying to find its way out of a corner of the paper.

“Come on.”

I ran to the kitchen one last time, picking up the heaviest cookbook I could get my hands on.  I placed it firmly atop the paper towels, pressing down with my foot, just in case.

And, the spider remains, buried under some paper towels and a very useful copy of Larousse Gastronomique.  I figure David can take care of it when he gets home tonight.

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7 Responses to “Itsy Bitsy Asshole”

  1. Danielle Says:

    I feel your pain. I usually Febreeze them from 8 feet away. That is, if no one else is around who can kill it for me.

    I am not scared of spiders the way a normal person is. They make my palms sweat. They give me MAJOR anxiety. I see eone, and almost immediately, my breathing gets shallow and quick. In my eyes, they are the spawn of the devil. I have no idea where this deep fear came from. And it’s getting worse as I get older.

  2. Kivrin Says:

    Yuck, I feel your pain. I loathe arthropods. :: shudder ::

  3. elizabeth Says:

    Yeah, I totally attacked what I think was a black widow in the bathroom of this old train-station-turned office that I temped at for a summer, when I took my heel off, started bashing the thing, and then grabbed some paper towels, scooped it up and threw it into the toilet. It was fucking terrifying.

    I hate, hate hate spiders. The basement where our laundry room is located has lots of them, and I’m constantly running in this huddled mass to avoid getting webs or spiders stuck in my hair going to or from the “laundry room.”

    I also hate house centipedes after living in a house in college (on-campus dorm that was an old mansion) that was full of them, including one that crawled on my comforter. They are best debilitated by Windex–it’s just enough to slow them down so you can kill the little fuckers. Blech.

  4. John (aspex) Says:

    I saw a spider or two since I moved into my new place. As they were properly in the closet, I assumed that they were the sole reason I hadn’t seen any other bugs. So far so good.

  5. Bibomaco Says:

    One word: Hairspray (and not the musical, although sitting through an entire viewing could kill pests much bigger than spiders).

  6. May Says:

    My secret weapon for killing cockroaches is a Swiffer (or do you spell it Swifter?). With it, you can stay far away from the animal you’re trying to kill and it’s not as gross.

  7. Britni Says:

    I was house sitting once and there was a frog or a toad of some kind in the house. They have two dogs so I didn’t want one of them eating the frog and getting poisoned so I shooed them into the garage and took a pot from the kitchen. I was so afraid of the thing that I could barely even get close enough to trap it with the pot. I ended up having to call an ex boyfriend to come over and get rid of the thing for me.

    I was crying. I am a tool.

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