T’was yesterday or a hundred years ago… It was a dark and stormy night (or, perhaps, a sunny afternoon, but who wants to read about THAT?) when I was at my place of employment. It was near Halloween on this particular year, and decorations were scattered all over the place. Including little plastic spiders. As I picked up the oddments and put them away, I came upon a big spider. You might not have called it a big spider (I would call it one [obviously, because I just did]) but it was just nasty enough and just big enough that I figured it wasn’t real. It was a plastic Halloween decoration, right?
My hand was thisclose to the little beastie when I thought better of it and touched it with my shoe. It skittered away at a speed faster than I’d ever seen mere mortal spiders move. Well. I ran after it, jumped on it, and skooshed it. And had the creeps for the rest of the day.
Later I went to the internet in search of identification for the creature. We have things shipped from out of the country, so there’s always the possibility of an ugly stow-away from far away lands. The internet consulted its sources and informed me that the critter I’d skooshed was a hobo spider, a brown recluse, a huntsman spider, Michael Jackson, or a pop-up toaster. The toaster idea seemed most likely, so I have since referred to similar creatures as “toaster spiders.” Basically they’re incredibly poisonous and we’re all going to die (according to one source), or everything is fine (according to another), or everything in the world is misunderstood and we should invite these spiders to tea.
Fast forward to this summer. I found a toaster spider in my house. It tried to take a bath with me, but I am too accomplished a ninja for such mad ideas. It got a posthumous ride down the amusement-park quality ride called “The Drain.” Since then, I’ve found toaster spiders on a daily basis, and I’ve waged war against them. In the kitchen, in the bathroom, beside the couch (!) under the bed (!!), climbing on my husband (!!!).
By the way, if you’re curious, they look kind of like this: Toaster Spider.
Sorry about that. They actually have more legs than that. I can’t take a picture of our dear, beloved toaster spiders myself, because, like I said, they are faster than weeping angels.
My dear aunt has lent me her vacuum cleaner, and I will add that to my array of weapons. A variety of other things certainly didn’t work.
And so the summer turns into fall, and I hope for cold weather and death to the spiders.
In the meantime, the dragon scarf proceeds, but there is not much to report on it except, “Well, it’s longer…”
How are things at your place these days? Have any spider stories that put mine to shame?