So, I hate spiders. My husband thinks I’m ridiculous, but it is a very legitimate, very real fear. Much like Tyra Banks’ fear of dolphins—although a fear of dolphins is a little easier to live with considering they’re pretty easy to avoid, no? Spiders? Not so much.
It also doesn’t help that I seem to have a sixth sense for spotting spiders. If there is one in a room, I will find it. This is both good and bad. Good because I like to know I’m in a spider-free zone. Bad because if I’m home alone, that means I have to do the killing.
Last week, I spotted the biggest spider I’ve ever seen crawling around my family room. Lisa thinks I’m exaggerating, but it was seriously the size of my palm. And substantial. Not just a daddy long legs looking thing. It had meat on its…er bones. After unsuccessfully trying to convince my one and a half year old to kill the “bumblebee” (she thinks anything that crawls or flies is a bumblebee), I had to get up the nerve to kill the thing before it got away. I threw a book on it and left it for my husband. And that was that.
But then…another one of the SAME spiders crawled on out yesterday. After spraying buckets of Raid at the tarantula like thing, I began to panic. What if there was a nest of them? What if they were living in my furniture? What if one crawled on me or Lydia, forcing me to have to knock it from her? [Editorial note from Lisa: She really did think every single one of these things because we had to discuss them over and over and over again. She wouldn't even sit in her family room because she was convinced there was a nest in the couch. Girlfriend is CRAZY. Crap, I'm still not pulling that off, am I?] So, I did what any mother would do to protect her child, I called the Orkin man.
After having a 45 minute heart-to-heart with Joan (a grandmotherly sounding southern woman of Orkin), she’d thoroughly convinced me that I needed seven $99 ultimate spider elimination sessions over the course of a year. She shared that her son had suffered a spider bite as a child and had to be on heavy-duty antibiotics, still has nightmares about the incident and even sports a scar from the bite. Terrifying. So, it was decided. I needed to shell out $700 for Orkin people to come into my home, search out nests (using state of the art technology) and rid my house of spiders.
Hubby did not agree.
So we settled on a $135 local bug man who knocked a few webs, sprayed some stuff along the baseboards and told me to wait three weeks. Worse than waiting, if I see a spider over the next three weeks, I have to let it live. Apparently, it will walk in the poison and bring it back to its nest to kill the others.
Oh, and instead of flushing the Raid drowned spider, my husband put it in a bottle for me to show bug man. He confirmed the specimen as a Wolf Spider. So there, Lisa.
I was just reminded that this is supposed to be a blog about writing and pop culture, so, um...killing spiders is like editing your work, scary, but necessary. See, it even rhymes! Happy, Lisa?