I stepped in dog poo the other day while, ironically, picking up dog poo. So, I hosed off my shoes and left them outside. BW later told me I should be careful about critters crawling in. Did I heed his warning?
No, I did not.
And not because I didn’t believe him, just because I forgot. So, I grabbed them today, noticed they were still dirty, threw them in the sink to give them a scrub down. Threw in some soap, turned on the water, and looked back just in time to see the hugest Arachna-freaking-phobia monster crawl out of my left shoe.
I immediately doused him with water in the hope that spiders can’t swim. I mean, there can’t be much traction with those spindly little legs, right?. But I couldn’t find him, all the suds were in the way. I contemplated leaving, but realized if he can swim, he’d crawl out and be IN MY KITCHEN. And if he makes it to the kitchen, it’s a stone’s throw to the living room. And once he’s in the living room, it’s just down the hall, up the stairs, and down the hall again until he’s in my bedroom.
I had no choice. I had to make sure he couldn’t swim. Thus began the intricately cautious search with BW’s BBQ tongs through the suds for his extraordinarily large, though hopefully water logged, body.
I found him between the shoes, he was on his back. That is if spiders have backs. Maybe it was his stomach. Anyway, he was definitely trying to swim. His little legs were moving. And not in a floating freely in the water kind of way. More like a bending the leg at the knee kind of way. Like he was ready to get up and fight.
I immediately called BW to let him know the world was ending and he would surely come home to a web covered home and find me inside, a dried up withered scrap of fly food. He claimed, as he always does, that this spider was a ‘good’ spider and that I should put him back outside and not attempt to drown him further.
Put him back outside? How? By lifting the kitchen sink out of the counter top and throwing it as far as I can over the back fence into the forest hoping it crashes into a million tiny pieces and slices the spider in half?
Apparently not.
He wanted me to capture him. In a small cup. With as little water as possible. Then deposit him gently into the bushes outside.
Okay. I get it. Save the spider.
I got a cup. The tallest one I could find. I put it in the water, as close to the spider as I dared. And I set it on top of him. Then I filled it with water. With any luck at all, squishing that motherfucker dead.
At least, I hope he’s dead. I’m afraid to go back in the kitchen for fear he’s rallied his spider friends to avenge his death. Although, I guess then it would be his near death. Cause if he can rally, he’s definitely still alive.
Then it occurred to me, what if he’s not the only one? How many more might there be deep inside the shoe. Hiding in the toe. Slipping just underneath the insoles? How can I ever wear them again without thinking of the spider? Without wondering if there are tiny micro spiders imbedding themselves into my feet.
I can’t. There’s no way. I don’t have the mental fortitude. I’m throwing them out. The spider has left me no choice. And let this be a warning to all you other spiders out there – I’m not the nice guy in the house. I will kill you. If I can. So, if you’re looking for an easy way out, hit up BW.