Have I mentioned that I have arachnophobia? I know I told you I'm germaphobic and heightaphobic and that I was agoraphobic years ago, but I don't remember confessing to the arach-thingy. Well, I am.
This morning I gathered together all the money I earned in tips for the week as I do every Thursday. I love money....earning it, counting it, saving it....just having it makes me happy even if I don't spend it. I paper clip the ones into bundles of $25, stick the leftovers in my wallet, and roll the coins. When I come home each night I throw all the coins in a plastic bucket and the bills into an old purse in the hall closet. I usually wind up with $75 or $80 in ones and $30 or $40 in quarters. Not bad for 4 days, huh? But I work really hard for those tips...funny and charming doesn't come cheap...lol.
I brought the bucket and purse into the den and put them on the coffee table and I thought I saw something move in the bucket. I shook it a little and saw the ugliest brown spider running around my money like crazy. My heart started pounding, my hands got sweaty, and I felt dizzy and nauseous. I grabbed the bucket and quickly turned it upside down on the rug, trapping the spider inside...and sat on it.
How long before a spider smothers, I wondered. And will it smother or is the carpeting plush enough to allow a tiny pocket of air inside it's teeny, tiny lungs? Does it have lungs? A nose? How long can I sit here? What time is it? 8:30. I've been sitting here since...8:29. Crap. My husband/Bughunter doesn't get home for....9 1/2 hours. I gotta pee. If I could reach my phone I would call him...I know my hero would fly to my rescue. But I can't reach my phone, and he works 37 miles away. I have to pee too bad to wait that long.
So, here's the plan. I'll stand up and hold the bucket down with my left hand. Then, if I can stretch far enough, I can reach the 750 page hardcover thesaurus and put it on top of the bucket. It should weigh about 1 lb, right? Run over there, grab the dictionary...how many pages, how many...918...whoa, this sucker's heavy....good, good. What else..what else...hello! There's two 5 lb weights in the hall closet! Damn, the closet is so far away! But I can do this. Run!
Ok, that's about 12 lbs of weight holding down a bucket with a spider that weighs about 1 trillionth of an ounce trapped inside. I think I'm safe now. If I move the arm chair a little to the left, leave the bathroom door open and lean to the right a little, I can keep my eye on the spider in case he tries to break out.
In case you think I'm overreacting (ya think?), we have almost every poisonous spider in the country right here in good ol' Moldy Roach, NC, and it's spider season. As soon as the weather starts to warm up all the bugs come into the house. Why? It's beautiful outside, why do they want to come in the damn house? I don't even want to be inside, why do they?
I'm used to killing 1 or 2 black spiders a day, they're harmless and slow, so they don't bother me. But this was a brown spider...a fast, skinny, brown spider. My friend, Judy, was bitten by a brown spider 17 months ago and she almost lost her foot. She had 2 surgeries to remove dead tissue and still has to have dying tissue removed every few months. Each time new skin grows over the wound it begins to die within a few weeks. Certain spiders have necrotizing venom that continues to destroy the tissue for a long time and there's nothing to be done about it. It stops when it stops. So I wasn't gonna be taking any chances, know what I mean?
For the first few hours I kept my eye on the bucket looking for any movement, a little "HELP ME" sign, a tiny spider ambulance, anything. After a while I relaxed enough to vacuum the hall closet in case he/she left any family behind, but I didn't see anything. Phew.
At 4:30 my husband called to see if I needed anything from the store...no, come on right home, dear. You don't have to stop at the store for me, nope, uh uh. Hurry home.
When he came home at 6 o'clock he opened the closet door to throw his change in the bucket and...no bucket.
"Where's the bucket?"
"In the den."
walk, walk, walk, walk, walk...
"Hon, were you building a fort?"
"I'm smothering a spider."
"Ok. What time did you start smothering him?"
"About 8:30 this morning."
"I don't see him, he must be dead."
I was at his side in a shot with rubber gloves.
"Put these on before you lift it up."
"What? Why?"
"It's poisonous."
"It's dead!"
"But the poison may be on the coins, or the rug. Put these on."
"You're not right, you know that?"
"Uh huh. Put these on."
"I don't see a spider in here."
"Don't use your hands, it might run up your arm! Use your foot!"
"Hon, the gloves are on my hands, not my feet."
"There he is, there...he's dead. Or playing dead."
"Get me a tissue."
"Eww, eww, eww, eww, eww, eww, eww...here."
So itsy bitsy spider was flushed down the toilet.... in hubby's bathroom, not mine. I sprayed the coins with Lysol and I'll pick them up tomorrow....after all the poison has evaporated, or whatever.




