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A Spider Stare Down

November 28, 2010

[A story from last year…that almost re-enacted itself yesterday…]

Let me state this up front. I have nothing personal against spiders. As far as I’m concerned, they can go on about their merry spidery way and I’ll wish them well. As long as they keep clear that “this” is my space. They can have the grand outdoors. I think this is a fair deal.

At 3 o’clock this morning, the truce was broken. Last night, I was too lazy to fold and sort all of the clean laundry I had piled upon my bed. Being single, I can do things like this. I did. This is why I have a futon sofa/bed in my living room. I reclined there with a good book and soon fell asleep. At 3 a.m., I woke up. One of those “I’m so not getting back to sleep anytime soon” moments. So, I picked up my good book and turned on the light. Mistake.

Across the great divide of my living room, I spied an intruder where plain wall meets craggy textured ceiling. A huge honkin’ spider. I contemplated getting up and killing it with my latest issue of the William & Mary alumni magazine (which is very substantial and good for smacking bugs). But I reconsidered. The spider was near the balcony door. He could let himself out. (Okay, so really, I just didn’t want to swing and miss, only to have the spider fall on me.) Besides, I figured there was no way that spider could navigate the treacherous canyons of my textured ceiling and make it anywhere near me. And, I hadn’t finished reading my W&M mag yet. I decided to ignore it and it would go away.

At 5 a.m., I woke up again, having fallen asleep once more with my good book. I opened my eyes only to behold: The huge honkin’ spider HAD navigated the treacherous canyons and was on the ceiling directly over my head, taunting me.

I am an adult. I have faced men with knives and guns and even machetes. So, after I danced around the living room in full blown panic, I grabbed my old walking cane.

Has anyone else ever tried to do combat with a spider who has taken the high ground? It was brutal. First strike seemed to be a killing blow, but apparently the spider had flattened himself just as the cane landed. It scurried. Strikes 2 and 3 were no better. The fourth blow was glancing. What I dreaded happened. Spider came tumbling down on me. Spider dance ensued. Tennis shoe brought about his demise.

No more sleep for MAB. Visions of spidery relatives seeking revenge abound.

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