Death Becomes Him

I don’t like spiders.

And now thanks to last week’s events, I know the feeling’s mutual.

My normal tactic whenever I see a spider of any size is to panic, scream for my husband then run away. Unfortunately, the spiders know this about me and decide to only appear when I am home alone with the kids.

So when my son announced there was a “huge bug” in the house, I thought, no problem, it’s probably a cute cricket and I’ll just shoo it out the door.

Aw, you are just so freaking cute, Mr. Cricket!
Aw, you are just so freaking cute, Mr. Cricket!

Only it wasn’t a cricket but the biggest, baddest, ugliest spider in history. A spider that had obviously been around the block a time or two.


As soon as he saw a dozen images of me coming toward him with my husband’s size 13 Shaquille O’Neal sneaker, he made a break for it, galloping down the hall on his creepy-deepy legs toward the safety of the radiator vent on the floor.

Ignoring all better judgment,  I chased after him, wildly slamming the clown-sized sneaker around and managing to hit everything in the hallway BUT the spider. Naturally, I also made sure to yell,  “GAH! GAH! GAH!” at the top of my lungs to aid in my murderous rampage.

I have it on good authority that in spiderese GAH loosely translates to: Prepare to die, asshole.

Yeah, I was giving him a warning. Because I’m a good person.

I cornered him into the crack between the wall and the floor and proceeded to deliver about a million sharp blows to his body, squishing him into a crumpled brown ball. With every hit I let out a blood-curdling yell of “DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!” because that’s the only way I can make sure the spider is really dead. The louder I say it, the more it makes it true.

The spider stopped moving. He was dead. Most definitely.


I crouched down and peered at the big brown ball of twisted spider guts. Oh yeah, he’s gone.

Still I wasn’t convinced. I stared at the spider for a good five minutes. Waiting. You can never be too careful. Those suckers are wily.

That’s when I saw him move. Ever so slightly one of his legs twitched. Can spiders experience post-death/rigor mortis/ghost-twitching?

But he’s dead!


Just the thought of this spider possibly coming back to life then exacting his/her/its revenge on me in the middle of the night by crawling into my ear and depositing a million baby eggs caused me to wait it out even more.

I held my breath, cringed and gingerly nudged him with the toe of Shaq’s sneaker to see if it would move.



Oh he’s good. He’s DAMN good.

“Mom, I think you killed him,” my son offered.

“That’s what he wants me to think.”

A few more minutes ticked by. Not wanting to tip my hand, I nodded at the spider and slowly backed away down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

Then I whipped my head back around to see if he was still there.

He was.

Yet my spidey sense was still tingling. Yes, he was there — but was he in the same spot?

Something is up, I thought.  I could have sworn he was further down the hall…

Then another thought dawned on me:

Holy crap. I am bat-shit insane. Of COURSE he’s dead! What kind of spider could sit there, completely still for several minutes, not moving one tiny spider muscle–they have muscles, right? I mean, if he wasn’t really dead, that would be completely bonkers! That would mean he had the gumption to realize playing dead would save him. That would mean the spider was thinking! And planning! And being all clever and shit! And that would just be nuts! And he’s looking at me right now! He’s watching me with all ten of his eyes! He knows I know! He’s waiting for me to leave! Or pounce on me! Yes! He’s going to launch himself up off the floor, glom right onto my face, sink his fangs into my nose and shoot a steady stream of spider-babies down my throat! I’m sorry I killed you, Mr. Spider! I am! I didn’t mean it! Please, don’t be mad! Okay, Darla, just calm down! Drop the sneaker, go get the vac and suck the bastard up. Then you’ll know he’s gone! …or he’ll live a long (albeit bitter) life within the confines of my dusty vacuum bag where he could bide his time creating a tiny voodoo doll of me and plotting my slow and painful death….

Yeah, I’ll get the vac. Good plan.

I flew upstairs, grabbed the vacuum and ran back downstairs with the attachment hose in hand when I heard my son yell from the hallway,

“Hey Mom?”


“The spider’s gone!”

That son of a bitch.

131 thoughts on “Death Becomes Him

  1. Oh Darla, thanks for the laughs! I feel your pain. I think you need to train your son to take care of these situations for you.
    I hate spiders and I also hate killing them. Especially in high places. What if you slam the shoe down, miss, and the spider jumps on you? GAH! My personal preference is grabbing the vacuum FIRST and sucking it up. It’s practically fool-proof. Of course, I’m sure my neighbors don’t appreciate when I turn on the vacuum after 10pm, but, I can’t just let the thing LIVE, can I? Nooooo.

    1. Oh, Lily, your idea of having my son take care of all spiders is brilliant! He’s 11 years old now…he shouldn’t be scared of them anymore, right? I hate all spiders, even the tiny ones. But I usually can’t bear to kill them. When I lived alone I would actually put a cup or mug over them, trapping them. Then I would think, “what now?” and wait for them to just give up and die on their own. I am such a wuss! This spider was HUGE though. And I’ll be damned if I let a giant spider crawl into my kids’ ears at night….I had to defend my family.

  2. It’s probably just as well because if you sucked him into the vacuum cleaner, he would turn out to be a she and she would lay eggs in there and then you’d really have a spider problem.

    I don’t know about muscles, but do they have lungs? Because, if so, smoking eight cigarettes at a time can’t be healthy. Maybe s/he’s off dying of natural causes.

  3. This probably isn’t the moment to pint out I kept tarantulas as a kid. I liked them in their tanks. Turned out they scared the bejesus out of me when I escaped and got lost. I once lost a very poisonous tarantula with a ten inch leg span for three hours…

    …I hope my kids go for puppies or bunnies instead!

          1. To the hills? 😉

            Just to ensure you never want to hear from me again, I thought I should tell you a further story in which I had, aged ten, decided to breed tarantulas so provide me with some extra pocket money… You can probably guess where this is going… basically, my cat knocked over a tank full of spiderlings! We found some of them but there were a good dozen we never tracked down. They were no bigger than ten pence pieces at the time and they were the non-poisonous type and I was told they would simply die as it was winter but for years I kept expecting to wake up face to face with a fully grown tarantula!

    1. I love fall, but this time of year, the spiders come into my house looking for warmth and I don’t have the heart to tell them, get the hell out. And if you don’t, be prepared to die die die.

  4. Oh no, what if he’s a zombie spider now???
    I share your dislike of spiders – I will not harm them in the wild (only in self-defense), but in my house I will attack them on sight. And I know they are sneaky bastards, so I always make sure to check his pulse to confim he’s dead.

  5. As I read this, I thought of Edgar Allen Poe’s “Tell Tale Heart.” Darla’s over the top mad. The spider’s dead. But s/he wasn’t. Yeah, I’d be looking for a new residence right now if I were you.

    In our house, either my hubby dispatches the spiders or we try to lift them up on a sturdy piece of paper and quickly hoof it outdoors where it can lead a saner – if colder – life. (They do eat other bugs, after all.) Loved your story.

    1. That’s the worst part, Judy. The not knowing where he is now. He could be anywhere. Why, he’s probably crouched behind me right now, reading this comment and smoking a cigarette.

      Y’know, I totally would have done the humane thing and gently lifted the spider up on a sturdy piece of paper but that would mean he/she would have had the chance to jump up off the paper, then climb down my nostrils while spraying a steady stream of spider babies down my throat. I’m sorry, but my dislike of millions of spiders growing in my belly trumps everything else.

    1. Yeah, what is it with the tissue? That is exactly what my husband does. He’ll laugh at me, then go get a tiny wad of tissue then smush the spider with it. A tissue! He is insane. Then he flushes it. But how I can be sure the spider didn’t jump off the tissue, then stick to the underside of the toilet? ready to jump on me the second I use the bathroom? I mean, my husband might as well just tell me to never use the toilet again.

    1. I cannot believe I never knew until now that spiders could fake death. What else are they capable of? Making a grande pumpkin latte at Starbucks? Running for political office? It blows my mind.

  6. This is why when the spider looks good and dead, you smoosh it one more time for good measure, scoop it up in a hefty wad of tissues, give it yet another squoosh, and then flush it, watching it go down so you know it didn’t escape.

    This morning there was a Halloween-worthy spider hanging out in my tub. I went to get in the shower (can you say, “vulnerable moment”?) and there it was… waiting for me. GAH!

    1. I agree totally. I should have scooped the sucker up in a tissue. But what if that was the moment he/she decided to crawl up my arm and implant a million babies inside my ear? I have a strong fear of that sort of thing. A vac attachment seemed like a logical thing to me in my moment of panic. But of course now he’s in my shower. And he’s probably more than a bit ticked off.

  7. Damn, D. That was intense. The fact that you got to make that Shaq-head slide as a result of this story must be some comfort.

    Guess who’s the spider killer in my household? ME! I use my diminutive size 6.5s though. 🙂

    1. Haha! you always crack me up, RP. Making that Shaq-head slide was the only reason I wrote this post.

      (I have a confession, the clown shoes I used as my spider weapon were really mine, I wear a size 9….)

      1. I just reread my comment where I blasted my husband for not riding in on a white horse to rescue little ‘ol me when I was confronted with the twin of Darla’s beast. Then I read your hysterical bug post, Dave and I wondered “Am I being too hard on my hubby? Maybe his fear of creepy things is just as valid as mine? Maybe I should respect that fear and NOT expect him to save me???”


  8. Impybat

    I hate spiders with an epic vengeance. My killing move is to spray them with hairspray and then stomp on them or I have my husband execute them if he’s around. We had one a monster sized one creeping around the kitchen and I managed to bring that one down on my own, thanks to my hairpspray/shoe combo. But the absolute worst is when you lose track of them when you miss. You never know where they’re gonna pop up next…like your ear.

  9. OH spiders! I hate them. The first motion picture I ever saw in a theater was at the age of 5. My brother took me, then abadoned me in the front row to watch with his friends in the balcony. It was called Tarantula and blew my young mind. I have hated spiders ever since.

    The other day I came face to face with a big wolf spider in my basement. My vacuum was at hand so I put the extention on it and slurped that sucker up. It almost clogged the tube. I ran the whole vacuum upstairs and sat it outside until my husband came home to take out the bag for disposal. I’m still wary in the basement. And now I have a million crickets down there.

    1. Wow, your comment just brought up a long-buried TV show memory. I do remember when I was very little, there was a horror show on TV and this woman went to take a bath, turned on the water, then when her back was turned about a million tiny black spiders started to stream out of her faucet. GAH GAH GAH!

  10. “Just the thought of this spider possibly coming back to life then exacting his/her/its revenge on me in the middle of the night by crawling into my ear and depositing a million baby eggs caused me to wait it out even more.” *Thank you* so very much for putting this image in my head. Now I’m not going to get to sleep tonight for sure!!! Bitch! I hate spiders, and now I hate you too!!! (LMAO)

      1. Me? Laugh? I actually found out during a reading that I was killed by a poisonous spider bite. And the reader said that the bite felt like fire. I asked where I was bitten: back of the left calf. When I herniated a disc in my back and my sciatic nerve was very pinched, the back and side of my left calf hurt so badly it was on fire for a few months (until I could get cortisone shots). To this day, the sensation there is not all correct, due to nerve damage. Wooooooo!!

  11. Oh girl, you never, EVER turn your back on them buggers. Simple process – corner them, then smack them until you can see the individual protons and electrons that made up the spider. Then use a fly swatter as a spatula, scoop him up and down the loo he goes! Trust me, this is the ONLY way to be sure. (Just make sure you have some spare paint the colour of your wall, so your spouse doesn’t walk in and yell “What the HECK is all over that wall?!?”. And Spackle, to patch the plaster cracks. Um … at least that’s what they tell me. Yeah, that’s it, that’s my story. No shoes through the wall, nope, never. 😉 )

    1. Good advice, John. But leave it to me to not have the squishing-spiders-into-unrecognizable guts technique. No, I just smush him into a ball that’s still alive. My husband is great at killing bugs. He just presses a tissue on them and leaves a mark on the wall. I would have done that but that would have meant my hand coming in close contact with the spider and I know for a fact the spider would have crawled off the tissue and straight into my ear and burrowed itself deep in my brain.

      1. Go to a garage sale. Get a couple spatulas. Go to a home repair or restaurant-supplies store. Get rubber gloves. That should help.
        If not, let me know. I know a few good armour makers. 😉

  12. I had a spider on my bathroom ceiling about a week ago. I grabbed some tissue and leaped up like I was taking a jumpshot, hit the spider, who didn’t die, but instead came falling down at me. I flailed around like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix making sure it wasn’t on me, but never saw the spider again. They are sneaky little critters!

    1. Oh! If I had a nickel for every time I’ve tried to hit a spider on the ceiling with a rolled up magazine or broom only to have it drop straight down onto my head. And for me that’s a fate worse than death.

  13. Did you mention that you were going for the vacuum? Yes, you did. You said it aloud. The spider had no choice but to flee. Because nature abhors a vacuum.

    I cannot believe nobody else said this.

  14. ALWAYS flush those bastards down the toilet!!!!!! I always do and watch them drown and twirl with the water even after I kill them, just to be sure. Of course…there is always the chance that the next time you sit on the toilet to do your business…the little sucker could/would crawl back up somehow and plant her gross eggs in the first hole she sees! EEEEEK! 🙂

    1. hahaha! YES! This is what I think about too. Sometimes I’ve watched the spider twirl around and around the toilet bowl then disappear but then I think, what if the spider stuck to the sides of the toilet? What if the spider can breath under water? What if the spider crafted a teeny tiny little raft and survived?

    1. We most definitely can still be friends, Laura. I will hire you as my official Spider-Relocator. I’ll pay you big bucks. But I have one question: once you relocate them aren’t you afraid they’ll only return with the rest of their extended family?

  15. The other day I was taking a little nap, and when I awoke, my daughter greeted me wide-eyed, telling me that there had been the hugest spider she’d ever seen in her room. I looked back, equally wide-eyed, asking where it was now. She pointed at my son. “Yep, it’s ok,” he said brushing his hands together “I took care of it.” Hallelujah!!! He took care of it! I saw someone else comment about your son, and my son is 11 too, so there’s your answer, it’s time for him to step up! By the way, when you have a sec, have a look at this web that was growing in my outhouse last year…

    1. You are so right, V. My son has stepped up more than a few times when it comes to killing flies. I think he can move on to spiders now.

      Do I really want to click on that link? Am I going to have nightmares?

  16. Kill is the only way to deal with a spider in your house – did you know they come back when being taken outside alive? Yeah, it’s true!
    I usually smash them till they are as flat as a stamp – and then I put them on my postcrossing-postcards and send them away to some places as far away as Indonesia …

    1. Yes, they DO come back! I vividly remember years ago a spider decided to make his home in the corner of the ceiling right above my bed. My bedroom was upstairs so I carefully carried him with a piece of paper, depositing him outside the window on the roof.

      Then he came back. He actually rebuilt his little web in the same spot. I could tell it was the same spider because he kept deliberately pointing his eight legs at his eyes, then back at me in a threatening manner. Spiders do remember who crossed them. They are vindictive little bastards.

  17. I should not tell you about the really large and hairy Wolf Spiders we have living outside our house. They sometimes hang out on our back or front porch, I think they like watching the Butterflies. They are shy, they eat other bugs and they don’t hurt anything, not really. I like them.

    This was excellent! I laughed aloud, I scared my bird who is not trying to immitate my snorting.

    1. I shudder to think of what being a “wolf” spider means or what they look like. You’re right though, they do eat other bugs so I suppose I should let them live. Well, only as long as they stay the hell away from the inside of my house. Maybe I should get a bird that snorts and that will scare them away.

  18. At least it’s injured. And hopefully slow. For next time. I had the pleasure recently of entertaining my kids with trying to kill a stinkbug. My daughter was screaming so I got a shoe and — wham! — then I was the one screaming. It squirted me right in the face. On my lip to be exact. It was disgusting. And guess what? They stink. Don’t ever get face level with those things when you try to kill them. Lesson learned.

    I hope your spidey friend crawled away to die in peace. I just can’t do spiders. Especially not like that thing up there. Creepy.

    1. A stinkbug? Sounds positively horrifying. I don’t think I’ve ever come across one of those evil things. Did it squirt on your face on purpose as self defense or was it just the bug guts on your face? Either way: EWWWW!

  19. I have an unnatural fear of spiders. It must run in the family–is that a gene? Every other state in the US should feel good about the spider population because most of the spiders in the country reside in FL. And the sunshine grows ’em huge here. Like the size of your palm. I’m not kidding OR exaggerating. Wood spiders and banana spiders. Our old house backed up to the woods and Steve actually HEARD one crawling on the wall behind him once! ANYWAY…. my advice is wasp spray! It shoots 20 feet, is designed to kill a critter that has an exoskeleton, and it works almost instantly. No escaping spiders after that stuff. I know from experience.

      Yes, I do think it’s genetic, Kim. I’ll have to find out if Darrin is also deathly afraid of them. And I know you’re not exaggerating about Florida spiders…I lived in N. Carolina (very briefly) and the main thing I remember is the gigantic dinner plate-sized GREEN spiders all over every single wall inside the apartment I was going to rent. That was enough for me to move back to Maine. I’ll take blizzards over spiders any day.

  20. Maybe this was the spider with extra special powers like the one who bit Peter Parker in Spider Man. Soon you’ll be swinging between LL Bean stores on your spider webs and using all your spidey senses. Spider Woman!

    1. God, that would make my nightmare commute to college every day so much easier! I wonder why there never was a Spider Woman? Come to think of it, I really didn’t like any of the Spiderman movies either.

  21. Snoring Dog Studio

    Yeah. Lesson learned now, huh, Darla? You never ever turn your back on them. Not any of the creatures that invade your space. You make sure the job is done thoroughly done. Which is why fire must be involved. A candle lighting torch is perfect for many of these jobs. You’ll want someone to be standing by with a fire extinguisher, yes. Even after you’ve incinerated the beast, you must not toss it into the trashcan, where it will reassemble and become a bigger, badder spider. It must go into the disposal (I pray that you have one). Give the grinding a full 30 seconds just to be sure.

    Last week or so, I found the biggest, most disgusting slug the size of a banana in my yard. I foolishly ordered my mom to put it into a can (that’s one reason she lives here) and then I put a plastic lid on top. I wanted to keep it so that I could show my brother and sister who can certainly appreciate a huge slug. The next day, I went out there and it was gone. The joy has gone out of gardening for me.

    1. As I read your slug story, I felt this creepy crawly sensation on the back of my neck. GAH! And your mom actually put it away for you? Bless her heart. Let’s hope he’s not waiting for you at the top of your tool shed, ready to slither down one day and plop onto your head.

      I lived for a few years in Washington state, home of the big banana slugs. I remember going for many walks in the driving rain (yes, it rained there constantly) and stepping on them, squish, squish, squish. Gah, ew and BLECH!

  22. I had to summon a fair amount of courage just to read this post. And when I got to the picture of what was (I’m guessing) a spider, I closed my eyes and hit the down arrow as many times as I thought might be necessary to get past said photo.
    Twice,I have had to deal with spiders that JUMPED.

    1. Oh hell yeah. Sometimes those suckers can launch themselves. Straight up like a rocket. Then they land on your face. It’s all very unsettling. How do they do that? I didn’t think they had tiny self-propelled jet packs strapped to their backs?

    1. Hey, Joe, is this a good time to tell you my college professor told us last week that while we’re asleep, all night long our mouths are wide open, and we are constantly breathing in tiny microorganisms like dust mites that travel down our throats and into our stomachs where they are killed by our stomach acid?

      Fingers crossed your stomach acid can kill a spider too.

  23. I’ve been so disconnected from blogs all summer, and then I finally read a post… and it’s about SPIDERS? GAH!!! What are you trying to do to me, Darla?

    Spiders and I don’t get along at all. What a bastard one you saw, too, playing dead. It’s worse when they’re terrifying AND SMART! What is this world coming to? I shudder to think… (Seriously. I’m shuddering all over right now. Full body shudder.)

    1. Yes, they are very clever at the morphing into a ball thing. The thing that really creeped me out is he didn’t flinch when I touched him with Shaq’s sneaker. It’s like he was thinking to himself, “Be cool, don’t move and she’ll go away.” Then he had to be watching me too because as soon as I left the hallway, he made a break for it. (shivers)

    1. I do too. I glance up at the ceilings, look inside the bedsheets. When I put on my shoes I shake them out in case Mr. Spider is hiding in there ready to bite my toes. It’s exhausting being on spider patrol.

      1. Yes, the elusive banana spiders are the worst. Those bastards, trying to ruin my breakfast.

        By the way, this reminds me of the time I sliced open a green pepper and found a partially decomposed bug inside. Yep. I think it was a grasshopper, but it may have been a creepy praying mantis. I didn’t inspect it long enough to find out, I just threw the pepper across the room at the wall then fainted. To this day if I have to dice a pepper, I cringe when I open it up.

  24. Gaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! While “gah” with just one “a” and one “h” does, indeed, mean “prepare to die, asshole” as you so properly noted, when spelled the way I did, it means “holy crap! I can’t believe I had the same, exact, terrifying monster spider in my kitchen last week!” Is it a sign of the apocalypse that the spiders are rising?

    Mine looked like a tarantula – I’m not even kidding. It was so big I didn’t think a Shaq-shoe would do the job. Like you wouldn’t use a shoe to kill a wolf. I tried to trap mine under a glass, but I got a couple of its legs caught under the edge, then I put a weight on it to hold it captive and ran up and woke up my husband to save me.

    TRIED to wake up my husband to save me.

    Remember those early days when they loved to show how big and strong and protective they were? Those days? Yeah, me neither.

    I’m so proud of the extreme courage you showed, going to super=human lengths to protect your innocent babies. Can I call you when your spider shows up at my house?

    p.s. why doesn’t the date show up on your posts anymore?
    p.p.s sorry I’m late to this party – I’m so swamped!
    p.o.o.p hi.

    1. This time of year, when it gets cold outside, the spiders come inside. It’s like a mass exodus of creepiness.

      When I read your line “I caught a few of its legs under the glass” I do believe I started to hyperventilate. Nice image, Pegoliciousness. GAH!! How big was this thing??

      P.S. The date of my post is at the very end, it’s teeny tiny print.
      P.P.S. Never say you’re sorry. You gracing my blog has made my week. I hear you on being swamped. I had to make an appointment the other day to breathe.
      P.P.P.S. I love you, Peggles!

  25. Oh Darlaspiderysquish’emsurvivor,
    I fight the spiders with my vacuum most of the time. Shoes or slippers fill-in on a “get them before they hide” basis. I HATE SPIDERS! And yet I am plagued with a gazillion popping up all over the house.
    Loved Elyse’s comment about abhorring a vacuum…too funny. And scarey, and squishy and yuck…
    If they’re outside and not in my face, they can live. If they dare enter my home or crawl up around me? You will die!!! That’s before they bite me and all that evil stuff you conjured up for me.
    Thanks a lot! Ewwww…

    1. From now on, I will always go for the vac FIRST. I’ve had my share of near-misses with a rolled up magazine before. Even tissues don’t work for me (too much of a squish factor) The only problem with a vac is the spider doesn’t die, but gets to crawl out of the vac later on while I’m asleep so it can crawl into my ear and raise its babies in my ear canal.

  26. Very funny, Darla! Fantastic ending. 🙂 Next time, send one of the kids for the toilet paper while you keep watch, then make one of them scrape up the “dead” spider with the paper (squish while scraping), and flush it!! Yikes, it gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.
    I had a big ugly spider on my desk last week. I put a piece of paper over it, and just as I prepared to smack a book on it, it ran out from under the paper at approximately 100 miles per hour and disappeared somewhere on my desk. I had no idea they could run like an Olympian!

    1. Hey, Maddie! You are so right, next time I won’t let that sucker out of my sight and get my son to run and get the tissue. And yes, spiders are amazingly agile, they can sprint, they can disappear into tiny cracks in the floor, they can suddenly jump and land on your face. What really freaks me out are all those creepy legs. (shudders)

  27. I don’t know why, but I can’t like your blog anymore? But I really did like it! I had a good laugh at your expense 😉 I’m sure that spider just ran to the hills as fast as he could and is now plotting his/her revenge. Keep us posted!

    1. You can’t like my blog?? what? Oh, the humanity! You mean the little “like” box thingamajig isn’t working? Or you really don’t like my blog? Now I’m going to feel very insecure….

      but I’m happy you enjoyed my spider nightmare. My husband claims he found the spider under the stairs and killed it. When I asked him what it looked like he said it was big and brown. But I’m still not convinced it was the same spider.

  28. How fucking funny! Damn spiders. I hate to say it, but we have those big hairy ones that live in the ground here in Cuenca. You know which ones I mean, right–the big Ts! They live in our backyard. That’s right. You read that correctly.

    Hugs from Ecuador,

  29. Haha! This sounds like the beginning of an epic battle. It will be a tale for the ages as you do battle with the world’s wiliest and smartest spider.

    Shit is about to get real.

    1. That’s right. The shit IS about to get real. Imma ’bout to get all “real” up in that spider’s grill, yo. (which means if I ever see it again, I’m going to hide in the closet and cry)

    1. I somehow knew you’d appreciate those teeny tiny cigarettes. That right there took some serious powerpoint skillz. Waaaay too much time to be honest. Sigh. The things I do for this damned blog….

  30. This is sooo funny. I hate spiders as well. I think they are smarter then we give them credit for, for sure. I would have done and said the same things you did. They are always waiting and watching.. They be playing dead too…(smh)

    1. Yes, this is what freaks me out the most. They are MUCH smarter than we are. And all those eyes! They see EVERYTHING. (shudders) I’m quite certain this particular spider will be holding a very long grudge, too.

  31. Liked your post. You are not alone! I was evicted from my home by a hairy beast (see my own post Love em or Eight ’em). Some of the blighters do push ups too as they can get out from under glasses!

    1. What?? WHAT? Push-ups? Oh my god. This explains all those times I had trapped a spider under a cup, only to lift it up later on and it had disappeared. I think this spider had to have been pumping iron, he looked super mean.

  32. NOOOO!
    Okay– like an hour ago I was cleaning and opened a closet door and this gigantic spider (okay maybe it was like the size of a fly, but still) came falling down from a web in front of my face– that really happens?! Luckily I’d been cleaning so instead of just screaming at the top of my lungs (which came first) I began dousing it with the Clorox spray I already had in my hand. Killing that little beast was totally worth having to wipe bleach off of everything.

  33. Thanks so much for the great visuals, the laughs and the realization that I’m not the only one who talks to spiders. Mine speak in very high-pitched voices, which is why I squeal at such a high pitch that only dogs and spiders can fully understand.

  34. Pingback: Why My Husband is Getting Lucky Tonight | swimmingtomy50s

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