oh god spiders

25 Aug

We interrupt your regularly scheduled Saturday Jane to bring you this news update:


So tonight I’m in my kitchen, doing all of the things that you’re required to do in your kitchen now and again.  There was some cooking happening, and some dishwashing.  It was all very domestic, I assure you, and at no point did I squirt soap onto the sponge and squeeze the sponge reflexively even though I was not holding it over the sink, getting puddles of sponge water all over the floor.  I had rigged Taylor’s IPod player to play Ingrid Michaelson on repeat, and I was having a jolly good time.

Suddenly, I felt a slight tickling on my arm.  I looked down.

There was a tiny spider.

Tiny spiders don’t phase me.  I mashed it.  Sorry, spider-lovers, but even though  tiny spiders don’t wig me out, they have the potential to grow into big spiders.  Big crunchy spiders.  Big black crunchy spiders that crawl up your nose when you’re asleep and eat the parts of your brain that remember South American countries and how to control your bladder.

I would like to keep my grey matter intact, thankyewverymuch.

So yeah, I mashed the little spider and, out of impulse, looked up. Two more little spiders were crawling around near the light fixture.  I glared at them disapprovingly.  And then I realized that there weren’t two spiders, there were four.  Only there weren’t four, there were nine.  Only there weren’t nine, there were twenty and AAAGHSPIDERSEVERYWHERESPIDERSAAAAAAAGH.

I fled.

From the safety of the living room, I could hear the brussel sprouts on the stove sizzling.  I couldn’t keep out of the kitchen for long.  Stuff would burn in there!  My stuff!  I went for my trusty spider-slayin’ shoe, a red sneaker that Taylor left here over the summer.  I squared my shoulders and pretended that I was Batgirl.

I dashed madly into the kitchen, flailing wildly, brandishing the shoe at the ceiling, but it was no use.  I was too short.  In vain, I tried to use a long-handled spoon, and then a spatula.  The spiders clung to the ceiling.

“Do you feel a draft?” they said to each other in their evil little spider voices.  “I feel a draft.”

If my angry looks were lasers, there would be holes in my roof.

I consulted Twitter, and after a few suggestions from Brittney involving fire and tiny vampiric stakes, I decided to go MacGuyver on the situation.

This where Taylor, reading my blog on a quiet Wednesday morning, reels in terror.  See, between the two of us, Taylor has all the good, sensible ideas.  When it’s time to do taxes, Taylor’s all like, “Well, let’s sit down and go over our receipts.” I’m all like “QUICK, WE’LL TRAIN A CIRCUS CAT TO JUGGLE NUMBERS.”  Taylor sees unreachable spiders on the ceiling, and he goes to get a chair to stand on.

I see unreachable spiders on the ceiling and my first impulse is to tie a shoe to a broom.

This post is going to go online at 8:00 AM.  At 8:07, I am going to stop and listen to see if I can hear Taylor’s disgruntled sigh from three towns over.

I took my spider-slayin’ shoe and used the laces to lash it firmly to the end of the broom handle.  It reminded me of a toilet plunger, only instead of the plungey part there was a size 11 instrument of arachnoid destruction.  I gave the seething little throngs of spiders a final moment to savor their creepy little lives.

And then I whanged my shoe-broom on the ceiling with furious abandon.

Spiders fell like rain.  I howled and tried to brush them off while maintaining my whang-pace.  It was like Braveheart or something.  I was Gandalf, or John McClane.  I was motherfrickin’ Ripley all up in my kitchen,believe it or not, screaming an incoherent string of creative cusses while the spiders experienced a Arachnoclypse of epic proportions.  I only stopped when I nearly disengaged the lighting fixture from the ceiling.




So the battle is over, for now.  I have the sneaking suspicion that a spider egg sac hatched somewhere in our kitchen and when that happens, aren’t there like five hundred spider babies?  That means that there are four hundred and eighty left.  Maybe they crawled outside, where they could live their spidery lives in peace, telling tales of the behemoth and her mighty Hell Sword© that destroyed so many of their kin.  Maybe they scurried down into the cracks of our floor, waiting for revenge.

Man.  Spiders and I.

I think I got an arch nemesis.


Posted by on August 25, 2010 in Uncategorized


8 responses to “oh god spiders

  1. shakinghandswithtoday

    August 25, 2010 at 9:15 am

    I hate spiders. I really do. I was having an awful day of epic proportions the other day and my wonderful Husband brought me flowers to help make me feel better. I sighed in pleasure and went to get my gorgeous green glass vase to hold my lovely flowers. But wait! What Is That In My Vase? It was a huge, disgusting, tunnel-web-building spider. Husband got the spider out with a wooden spoon and then smashed the spider in the sink while I was freaking out. Even though the spider was ‘smashed’, I ran the in sink disposal for about 5 minutes, and the flowers went into a boring clear glass vase. I feel your pain, sister. I really do. And I’m sorry that you did not have someone to deal with your spiders while you freaked out in the other room. But I admire your courage.

  2. lisa

    August 25, 2010 at 11:16 am

    Gah!!! This was a nightmarish post…I’m so afraid of spiders. One crawling on you and zillions on the ceiling–eep!!

  3. Taylor

    August 25, 2010 at 11:21 am

    This post is terrifying. I’m never setting foot in our apartment again.

  4. Clawmom

    August 25, 2010 at 11:47 am

    Did anyone else read that last line as “I think I got an arach-nemesis,” or is it just me?

  5. outdoorexplorer

    August 25, 2010 at 7:07 pm

    Lol! I loved this post. I despise spiders. And am terrified of them. And they are EVERYWHERE over here. My one consolation is that they eat ANYTHING, including, supposedly, cockroaches. Which I hate more than spiders. Thus, I have let live the big spider in my house I have seen. And it is big. I try to ignore the small ones hanging from the outside of my house. Except of course when they are clogging the entryway with their webs. Then I take a broom and whoosh them away. They always come back though *sigh* Its a sad circle of inevitableness.

  6. Vanessa

    August 26, 2010 at 3:53 am

    You need to install a spider shelter– like a bomb shelter, but spider-proof. I’m not sure what it’d have in it yet, but probably a lot of shoes for squashing and hot chocolate for feeling better.

  7. Rachel

    August 26, 2010 at 2:04 pm

    I had this almost exact experience earlier this week. I used a swiffer without the cloth attached to smash the tiny spiders into the wall/ceiling. If it makes you feel any better the baby ones usually don’t survive long (not enough food or something). So, if you can’t hunt down the rest they won’t all return as a larger spider army.

  8. Genevieve

    September 1, 2010 at 2:30 am

    I have no idea how I happened upon this blog, but I have a feeling I’ll start coming everyday and catch on on the backlog. The line about training a circus cat to juggle the numbers had me crying laughing outloud to myself- it’s totally what I would do! 🙂


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