Fall is in full swing here in the gorgeous Northwest. And by “full swing” I mean the spiders are all out and fully swinging on their webs. Spiders are possibly the one single thing I hate about this state. If they stayed normal California size, it wouldn’t be an issue. However, it’s like they all go through a Bruce Banner metamorphosis. They start off tolerable. They are varying stripes and sizes, but soon…. soon they become giant, leggy, hairy, menacing, disgusting intolerable nuisance that pop up anywhere and everywhere. Inside. Outside. Topside. Leftside. It’s not cute.
(insert pic of multitudes of webs and spiders here. you must imagine this picture, because i will NOT go searching images of spiders to
steal create and insert here)
So today i’m driving home from the store with my insect-bipolar child. She loves bugs – from far far far away. And usually just the caterpillar/snail/slug variety. If the spider is small enough, she can deal. We have learned to co-habitate with daddy long legs, but if they are a certain size, the treaty is broken.
Anyway, i’m driving home with her in the back and as we turn onto our street, she begins SCREAMING. “SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER!!!!”
I swerve like a crazy person, and then mentally collect my shit. You see, she inherited her spider loathing from me, obviously. I begin chanting in my head, “Please be small. Please don’t crash. Please be small.” I manage to pull over semi-calm and put it in park.
She is still screeching. She is kicking at the passenger seat in front of her where it has started climbing up the headrest, no doubt to get away from the lunatic giant trying to kill it. I look over and have to squint to see the thing.
I had just days prior found a big-assed black as night mini tarantula on the garage ceiling. That’s what I was picturing in my head as my daughter is climbing out of her skin and doing her best karate on this infinitesimal arachnid.
I calmly grab a paper towel which seem to be at every fingertip since school has started. I wad it up and squash the thing. Just to be sure there are no more near-accidents I break all moral code and toss it out the window.
I know. Sue me. Shoot me. It’s the granola state, afterall. I am imagining red lasers to point at my chest while helicopters release full-geared S.W.A.T. over my house.
In the end, we survived. My van survived. My child survived scaring the bejeezus out of me, but the spider, alas, did not. I am ashamed to say I felt a small bubble of glee rise in my chest as I was able to woman-up and kill one of the thousands of pests I will be living in fear of from now until next summer.
R.I.P. little dude.