Unpleasant Surprises

Last night I was contemplating what my first blog entry should include when I was rudely interrupted. As I walked into my bedroom, my spidey-radar alerted me to an intruder. Poised on the floor next to my bed was a Hobo spider! No, I'm not joking--I've become adept at identifying dangerous arachnids. He was brown with that pattern on his back, "boxing glove fangs," eight legs, and very, very sly. This last characteristic I've learned from vast experience killing such vermin.

Allow me to back up and familiarize you with the situation. When I moved in a month ago, I killed two large spiders the first two nights. I swear they were some rare breed I'd never seen before. I soon after bought a pack of sticky traps and sprayed, or rather doused, the perimeter of my small but wonderful 9x10 room. The package of traps contained six sticky pads; I set all of them up . That comes out to one trap per fifteen square feet (I think). I figure that should be enough to keep me safe and ignorant of the spiders. Have not seen another spider until last night...

Back to my Hobo. When I set my sights on him, my heart began to race, my palms began to sweat, but I contain my scream considering there are four sleeping girls above me. Realizing he could bolt under my dresser at any moment, I grab the shoe specifically designated as Plan C, should the poison and trap fail. I crouch within arms reach to assess my foe. He is still as death, but I'm not fooled. Dead spiders' legs curl up tight to their body, they shrink, and they don't flinch when blown upon. I've gotta live one!!! The cowardly/desperate side of me wants to crawl into bed and pretend I didn't see anything. But then he'd breed or murder me in my sleep. So I must be brave. It takes several minutes to actually take the first strike and I MISS!! AHHHH! Words I don't say are flying through my head trying to make it out between my clenched teeth as he crawls farther under my bed! This is good because he's headed straight for a trap, or so I think. No, no, remember Hobo's are very clever. They'll even fake death. Seriously. This one crawls UNDERNEATH the sticky pad. I run for the spray and drench the carpet around the trap, so he finally crawls into it to escape the rain of death. I prematurely celebrate victory until he crawls OFF the sticky goo! What a waste of five bucks.

As a last resort he makes a run at me, so it's back to the shoe. I grant him a quick death as I smear him into the carpet several times. Through all of this I hear Gramma's chiding tone in my head assuring me the poor, defenseless spider is more afraid of me than I am of him. Yeah, right. Love you Gramma! Wish you would have been here to save me from that spider. Nonetheless, I've accomplished my purpose and can now rest peacefully because I am Xena, Princess Warrior! Spiders beware. . .