I had the misfortune of discovering an eight-legged monster on the floor of my bathroom this afternoon. I’m in the Pyrenees mountains of Alberta, Canada, so it’s anyone’s guess what poison may lay within. Always err on the side of caution when it comes to insects that bite. Or really anything that bites, I guess.
Upon discovery, I did what any single lady would do: shriek, run out of the room, stealthily creep back in to see if it had moved, shriek again (just because, spider.), run back out of the room, sneak back in with a dependable shoe on and ready, and WOMP with all the might my leg can muster. The next natural step is to carefully remove the foot from said shoe without disturbing it, and then wait patiently for an able-bodied man to happen by to take care of that dead-bug business.
A couple hours later, it seemed acceptable to calmly and collectedly mention to my dad that I needed some spider removal help. “Well, since you’re here…..”
He lifted up the shoe and….
….the spider was not there. All that remained were two, maybe three, spider LEGS. That spider is at large in my bedroom currently; crippled for sure, but at large.
And since I won’t be sleeping tonight, here is a healthy little dose of Shelob to get you on my level, too.