I got up to get the girls lunch today. The boys were playing xbox (summertime = videogame time) and they can fix their own lunch food, so I start on the girl's lunch. Hot dogs, pickles, blueberries, yogurt pretzels - the lunch of champions! (I want spaghetti! Diana tells me. Take off your new shirt, then I tell her. Nevermind! she says. Guess she didn't want spaghetti that bad.)
I fix their whole lunch, find their drinks, fill their cups up, cajole them through the rest of their lunch, and move them from the kitchen. During this time, I'm around the sink a whole shit-ton, making drinks, my coffee, etc. At one point, I stand next to the sink for at least two minutes!
Lunch over, I grab my coffee, and happen to look up. There is a God damn spider on the ceiling! A huge fucking spider the size of a tank! Did I mention there is a giant fucking spider on my ceiling, just waiting to pounce, and bite the shit out of me! It was a monster spider! The size of a small cat! Or a dog - no, a small country!
I dislike spiders. However, to use the word 'dislike' implies a small aversion. If 'small aversion' in spider-like-ability is the size of the moon, my feelings toward spiders are more like the massive black hole at the center of the Milky Way galaxy! That's how much I dislike spiders. And there is a spider above my head! Get if off, get it off!
Ok, ok, don't panic! I tell my middle son to get the spider spray, and he can't find it. I am staring at the spider, because if you take your eyes off the spider, it will disappear, and then it could turn up anywhere! Now for those of you now versed in spider-killing techniques, lots of household shit will kill a spider. Once, I was out of bug spray, and used flea-powder on a spider, and I will never fucking do that again. If a spider could scream, it would have! It was doing the 'funky-chicken' flopping all around for about 3 minutes. Even spiders don't deserve that shit. (Side note: I use Dawn dish soap now for fleas, I mean, if flea powder does that to spiders, it's got do to weird shit to my dogs!) So, to kill this spider I could use 1) spider-approved spray, if my son can fucking find it, 2) bug spray of any type, 3) a flyswatter, but then I would have to clean the ceiling, or 4) hairspray and a lighter, but then I might burn the house down. I choose #1, and if that fails, #2.
"What the fuck?!? What do you mean you can't find the spider spray? Check that cabinet by the back door!" Deep breaths, no freak out allowed. I'm ok, I'm ok. He finds the wasp spray. "No spider spray? Ok, fine, fuck it, give me the wasp spray."
I spray the wasp spray all over the fucking ceiling! The spider falls to the floor, and I step on it. Then I hyperventilate for a couple of seconds, "I need to sit down, give me a minute," and I go sit in the living room, while my oldest (at 16, he should have killed the fucking spider for me. I mean seriously, what else are teenagers for?) cleaned the wasp foam off the ceiling.
He finishes up, and comes out to the living room, and I tell him, "Thanks for wiping the ceiling down, did you ... happen to see any other spiders?"
"Nope, all clear." Whew, bullet dodged.
"Well, thank you, I really appreciate it," and I have warm fuzzy feelings for my son the hero, who assisted in spider-clean up.
"No problem, Mom. You didn't notice the spider before?"
(record scratch) What!?! "You knew the spider was there?" Pop! is the sound my warm fuzzy feeling makes as it shatters into a million-fucking pieces!
"Well, you hadn't seen it, so we didn't think it was a big deal," my eldest tells me.
"Well, yeah, it's a big deal! It could've have eaten me whole!" Here's a thought, you could've killed it before I saw it, and I would never have known! Where's the love, asshat! I live with a bunch of spider-loving idiots, who laugh their asses off at me when I freak out about seeing a spider. Spiders are like iceburgs, there's always more than what you see!
Hello, my name is Titanic, and spiders are my iceburgs. Is there a help group for that?
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