Bloody Fall…

 

I love all of the seasons. Fall is definitely my favorite. Or it’s at least the one I look forward to the most, Spring is in a close second. Of course it also involves crawling things. Specifically, spiders.

So … this isn’t a new fear. And it is totally bloody legitimate. When I was 18, I moved back from Vancouver (believe me that was a brief stint, and probably another blog post) anyways…I rented the house that I grew up in as a child, from my parents. The house has since been moved to the back of the property and the people are using it for a garage…

But at that time…It was my sanctuary. I loved that house and the memories that it held from my childhood. One of those memories was clean sheets off of the clothesline. Little did I know, this day…it would be the very last day for the rest of my life, that I would ever hang my sheets on the line.

The night of the debacle, I had brought my sheets in off of the line, it was a fall day not much different than today was. I was pretty stoked that my laundry was done and folded. I made my bed and carried on with the usual Donna stuff.

So if you don’t know me, you won’t know that I am the lamp queen of the Universe. I absolutely hate ceiling lights. I always have. For some reason, the night of the debacle, I did indeed have the ceiling light on in my bedroom. I went to pull back the covers on my tiny little single bed, and there, in the middle of the top and bottom sheets, was one of those big assed orange assed spiders. I am not lying when I say the ass was the size of a dime. Remember, I lived alone. And I am a girl.

There was screaming. There was murder. There was no fucking sleeping in that bed until the sheets were washed again and dried in the hottest bloody dryer I could find to dry them in. I have never forgotten.

I have nothing against those beauty spiders. I am awed by them when they are outside. They don’t try to come into your house. Probably because they know when they do, they are indeed going to perish. Even when they are brought in against their will.

Now wolf spiders are a whole different gig. They are like the little asshole of the spiders. They charge humans. They run across our walls so fast we can’t process what has gone down until they are in their little hidey place again. They terrorize cats, and even in a house of three, they brave it to scare the living shit out of us. Assholes.

A couple of weeks ago, I am doing laundry in the bathroom, and there, right above my door, certainly waiting for any opportunity to jump on my head and hitchhike it’s way into the rest of the house, is a fairly good sized spider. Now it is high up, as my roof is peaked. I had no idea what the fuck I was going to use to kill it from 8 feet up. In my brilliant wisdom, I grab my broom. (*In hindsight and giving good advice, get a book and a chair, not a broom) I take said broom, and hit at the spider, which of course falls down the wall into the row of scarves I have hanging on the back of door. I now have no idea where the spider is. At all. So the obvious beating of the scarves happens. I still have no clue where it is. I take all of the scarves and somehow manage to get them shoved into the washer and washing in 2.5 seconds. Still no spider. What the fuck? In my head, I am positive that the spider is dead in the washing machine. Or if not then, by dryer time for sure. I forget about it in a few days…

And then last week, I was washing my face, and AFTER I had dried it off and was putting the towel back on the hook. I see a baby asshole, ON THE TOWEL. Like seriously? Were you just watching me while I was doing that? Waiting for the eye contact and almost certain squashing that will inevitably happen as soon as eye contact is made? I again scream. I squashed. I nearly passed out. What the actual fuck?

Two hours later, still shaken and on full alert, I see another baby asshole on the roof in the corner of my living room. So now I am like, what in the name of GOD is going on here? I have just lived through 10 months of 2020 and now this shit…

THIS time I am not going to make the broom mistake. I grab my dust buster and suck it’s ass up, run to the bathroom and flush the contents of the buster down the toilet. Mission accomplished.

Until yesterday…when beside by my bathtub, right where my shower towels should be hanging if they weren’t in the wash, is the asshole that got away. I calmly walk to my living room, grab the thickest paperback I can find, and murder the fuck out of that spider. I. Can’t. Even.

I’m done. All of the windows, cracks in the kerf strip around my doors, and other possible entry ways are sealed up like a bloody tomb. I put drops of peppermint absolutely every where. My house smells like a candy cane. If you have any Chestnuts, hit me up. I am looking for 12 or so, for every corner…

And bring on winter, and chestnuts…and the end of 2020. None of us are amused…

Tell me your phobia or spider story. I don’t want to be alone here anymore xox

 

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