At some point mid-summer, we noticed that we had this National Geographic spider show happening right outside our living room window. We watched as this giant spider made herself right at home precariously close to the outside (thank God) of our house. We watched her spin her web bigger and bigger; we watched her catch flies – those poor, idiotic flies – and, of course, devour them. Now, I don’t love spiders, but Loud One does, so since this was all happening OUTSIDE the window, I let it go.
But then a few weeks ago, something interesting started happening. I noticed that Miss Spider had wedged herself into the corner of the window frame and seemed to be growing some sort of SAC.
So I Googled “spider with sac” and confirmed what I suspected. SPIDER BABIES WERE COMING.
I also confirmed that Martha Stewart is a sick bastard.
I wasn’t happy about this sac because I have read Charlotte’s Web and I knew what was going to happen when that sac burst open. Hundreds of little baby spiders would come parachuting all around my house AND since it’s starting to get pretty cold out, for sure they were going to seek shelter and possibly hot chocolate inside my house.
So I did what any sane spider-baby-fearing person would do… I asked someone else to deal with it (namely, KJ). And just to be clear, by “deal with it,” I meant, “rid our family of the threat of Mama Spider and her 843,988 babies.”
KJ is nice, so he agreed to take care of it. But then he left for a three-day business trip to Chicago. NOT NICE.
Those first few nights after discovering the sac, I was literally losing sleep… I just kept envisioning all those baby spiders sneaking in through my walls and … yeah, I had to attack.
So, the next afternoon, armed with
Anti-Spider Spray Mr. Clean with the fighting power of Clorox Bleach (which I was confident would be just as toxic to a Mama Spider as Anti-Spider Spray) and an unraveled wire hanger, I approached the Web of Doom.
Now, I’m not a TOTAL cold-hearted bitch so I did entertain the thought of knocking Mama Spider away from my house and encouraging her to go live happily ever after somewhere else. Far away. So, I dismantled the web with the wire hanger, thinking that might lure Mama Spider out of her nook. BUT NOPE. She wasn’t budging.
She left me with no choice. I whipped out my Mr. Clean with the fighting power of Clorox Bleach and I sprayed. And sprayed and sprayed. And sprayed some more. And then she moved. Well, as it turns out, Mr. Clean with the fighting power of blah blah blah is NOT as toxic as Anti-Spider Spray because SHE STARTED CRAWLING OUT! And I swear, she had revenge in her eyes.
Now, she was definitely lumbering a bit, but I don’t know if it was because of all the Mr. Clean OR because she was dragging around that huge sac full of babies. I mean, I’ve been 10 mos pregnant three times… so yeah, I’ve been there.
But regardless of her lack of speed, she was clearly coming for me. So I sprayed some more. And she kept walking. More spray. More forward aggression on her part.
So, then I did a really awful thing… I buried her.
I just starting kicking dirt on her until I couldn’t really see anything anymore and then I sprayed the whole area just in case. And then I kicked some more dirt and then I sprayed some more. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc.
Look, I don’t feel great about what I did. I know that she was one of God’s creatures just trying to raise a family. And as a fellow mother, I respect that she was just trying to protect her
little horrifying unborn spider-children, but she left me with no choice!
I know stepping on her might have been a less painful death, but I clearly couldn’t risk releasing the nine-million spider babies because they would spread in all directions… including up my yoga pant leg and …. <shudder>
And at that point, I simply couldn’t let her live; she’d seen too much. I just knew that if I didn’t end her, she would find a way to torture me by living on the one spot of my bedroom ceiling that is directly above my face when I lie in bed.
And then she would just stay there for days and days and days, until ONE DAY she just WOULDN’T be there. I would immediately search my bed and the whole bedroom but she’s a MASTER so of course I wouldn’t be able to find her.
Of course, I would then have to sleep in the guest room for a while until I would start to see her shadow in the guest room toilet bowl in the middle of the night.
Eventually, we’d have to move to another house so that Mama Spider couldn’t haunt me until the day I died… probably from a venomous spider bite. Because Karma is a Bitch like that.
So, you’ll agree I had no choice, RIGHT?
I’m mostly at peace with the whole thing… but there is one teeny tiny part of me that is still a little bit nervous. Did anyone in the whole world (besides me) see that Nicole Kidman/Sandra Bullock movie, Practical Magic where the two of them are witch sisters who like to drink margaritas? Anyway, in that movie, they kill and bury a bad guy in the yard, but lo and behold he is NOT QUITE DEAD and then in one dramatic scene, his arm POPS out of the grave before he completely busts out and comes back to terrorize them. It’s actually kind of a comedy… but whatever.
ANYWAY. I keep envisioning Mama Spider BUSTING one of her eight legs out of that mulch and then another and then another and then another and then anot… you get the point… and then dragging her giant sac-attached body right up to my pillow and busting open that baby bag and letting those baby spiders wreak havoc in my bed.
But that won’t happen, right? It can’t.
Do you think it can? Nah.
Shit. I’m never sleeping again.