It's official. My neighbors have confirmed that I am indeed out of control crazy. I'm sure they have been suspecting this for a while now, and I have confirmed all suspicions.
Our walls are pretty thick in our apartment building. We will hear the occasional bass, or a door slam, but for the most part you can't hear anything. Except, when all our windows are open, my neighbors' windows are open and I let out a blood curdling scream.
Seven people shouted out "Are you okay?"
I yelled back "Fine, sorry."
I'm impressed so many people are around at 11:30 in the morning on a weekday. It's nice to know that if something truly serious and horrible happened there is someone to hear my screams.
Ever since I was little I have been convinced some axe murderer is on the other side of the shower curtain. Waiting for me to come out of the shower and kill me. I don't know why I think the shower curtain can protect me; or stop an axe murdering lunatic, but I do.
The danger is always on the outside of the shower curtain, never in it, until today.
I'm trying to figure out how many battles I can lose and still claim a victory in the war against the SGH injecting spiders.
I turned the water on in the shower, and pulled back the curtain. I like the water insanely hot, and give it a minute or two to warm up. When I moved the curtain there was a very large black furry spider.
Twice in one week is a bit insane. I failed at trying to keep the Hobo Spider's friend (or spouse, or lifetime partner) from visiting. He (or she, but definitely a he) might have been living here since last week. You can read about the previous experience with a spider, ready to eat me, at that link.
Killing spiders is bad luck. Don't believe me? I'll have you know James Henry Trotter's aunts killed a spider; and three days later a very large peach bowled them right over. They were dead from being squished by my least favorite fruit. If it can happen in a book, it can happen in real life. Almost definitely.
I am a strong independent woman. I can kill a spider. Maybe.
I know spiders don't like water so I chased it with water from the nozzle. Keeping a constant water stream on it. I figured it would only take a couple seconds for him to die.
WRONG! Oh, so very wrong.
I'm pretty sure the water made him stronger. And bigger. Maybe also a tad hairier. He began sprinting. All eight legs moving faster than Usian Bolt could dream of moving.
Okay, drowning the mega spider is not working. He is about one straight line from leaping out of the tub and jumping on my face. My shirt and shorts are also soaked from me playing with the water.
I need a better plan.
I have a couple friends from college who moved to California after graduation. Most of them live in the desert where large spiders and other creepy crawlies have invaded their homes.
They must know what to do. I quickly remembered they do not.
My one friend placed a large sand bucket over the spider and piled several books onto the bucket to keep the spider from wandering away. She left it there for five days before someone would kill it. That would work, except I can't place a bucket and books over a spider in the bath tub. I'm also not letting him stay here for five days.
My other friend refused to answer the phone.
Electrocuting the bad boy seems like the only solution. Except I have no way of zapping him. We do not live in Alabama or Mississippi where large bug zappers are needed every three feet. Even if I could get my hands on something that would electrocute the giant monster, there is a good possibility I would electrocute myself.
Besides, water and electricity do not mix. I did, however, think of filling up the tub with water, turning on my hair dryer and tossing it in. Mythbusters said it would not work.
I am seriously running out of options.
I contemplated calling my husband. But what am I going to say? Hi, uhh, there is a very large spider in the shower.
That would be right up there with calling my parents to say I was chased by a skunk in the middle of the afternoon. Eight years later I am still trying to live that down.
I know how insane it would be to call Chris at work to inform him of a spider. That falls under the category of waste of phone call. And what am I going to ask him to do? Leave work to take care of a tarantula's grandfather?
That is so beyond ridiculous, the Kardashians wouldn't even contemplate it. Calling your husband at work to take care of a spider? 1950 called, and wants their stereotypical female back.
Poison! I can use poison!
Right, well I'm not an evil mastermind genius. I don't have poison lying around. I've seen what happens when you mess up poisons. Instead of killing someone you turn him into a llama. And as cool as a llama would be, I don't want one in the shower. "Emperor's New Groove" anyone?
I do however, have cleaning products. One of the luxuries of living in the northwest is you have ten different types of bleach and other cleaners to fight the mold and mildew.
The spider has stopped trying to run from the water, and is hanging out close to the drain. There is no way he could fit down there.
Having hair stuck in the drain is gross enough, could you imagine a large spider? So poisoning him is not going to work.
I fail at being an evil mastermind.
After looking at the problem in as logical manner as I can; and keeping an eye on it, to ensure it did not wander to another part of the apartment. I decided the only thing I could do is flush it. But how to get the spider from the bathtub to the toilet without touching it?
DUSTPAN!
Taking an envelope and a dustpan, I finally got the adventurous spider onto it. I quickly moved to the toilet. After some coercing, the spider made its escape into the toilet, where it can swim.
Hobo Spiders swim! This one, in particular, swam very well.
I quickly flushed the toilet and made sure the spider made it down and out. To make sure it died I flushed three more times; in case he was holding firm to the side of a pipe or something.
Now all I have to watch out for is a very large peach rolling through Seattle, ready to stomp me dead.
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