Dear Spiders,
Your home is outside. I have a lovely garden for you to live in, if you haven’t noticed. Please eat all the bad bugs that attack my plants rather than venturing into my house. I assure you, there is a limited food supply indoors. I am confident that my house does not harbor bugs (other than you, apparently) and neither your webs nor hunting excursions will result in the delicious array of insects you desire. I do not want to kill you. Really. I value your assistance in garden maintenance. But here is your official warning: if I find you in my bathroom, bedroom, or shoe, you will regret your decision to bask in the steady 68-degree climate set by my thermostat.
Best regards!
This note is inspired by my dependable sign of spring: arachnid appearance in my house. This morning I found a small brown spider in my laundry basket, hiding amongst the clothes I have yet to put away. No biggie—easily remedied. This was not an aggressive or imposing spider, rather one that would prefers to run and hide than meet his end with a close-up view of my sock-covered hand (which I'm sorry to report, happened anyway). Only moments later, I am taking a shower and I discover a real beast—a black house spider—hiding on the underneath side of my soap shelf (only noticeable because it was at eye-level). Its body was about the size of a quarter and plus the added diameter of its legs. EEK. Here is the edited description according to the Orkin website:
Your home is outside. I have a lovely garden for you to live in, if you haven’t noticed. Please eat all the bad bugs that attack my plants rather than venturing into my house. I assure you, there is a limited food supply indoors. I am confident that my house does not harbor bugs (other than you, apparently) and neither your webs nor hunting excursions will result in the delicious array of insects you desire. I do not want to kill you. Really. I value your assistance in garden maintenance. But here is your official warning: if I find you in my bathroom, bedroom, or shoe, you will regret your decision to bask in the steady 68-degree climate set by my thermostat.
Best regards!
This note is inspired by my dependable sign of spring: arachnid appearance in my house. This morning I found a small brown spider in my laundry basket, hiding amongst the clothes I have yet to put away. No biggie—easily remedied. This was not an aggressive or imposing spider, rather one that would prefers to run and hide than meet his end with a close-up view of my sock-covered hand (which I'm sorry to report, happened anyway). Only moments later, I am taking a shower and I discover a real beast—a black house spider—hiding on the underneath side of my soap shelf (only noticeable because it was at eye-level). Its body was about the size of a quarter and plus the added diameter of its legs. EEK. Here is the edited description according to the Orkin website:
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"Otherwise known as the window spider, the black house spider appears dark and strong. The thorax of the black house spider is lustrous black and females of this species are commonly twice as large as males. (And here's the best part.) Although their bite is not lethal, humans may experience negative side effects from a black house spider bite. Vomiting, muscular pain, weakness, nausea, sweating and shortness of breath occur if a bite is severe. The bite itself is noticeably painful and commonly swells. However, black house spiders rarely attack humans; they bite only when threatened."
Could "threatened" include rapidly approaching it with a shoe-like object intent on its destruction? I have never been a fan of spiders, but I have at least outgrown the paralysis that used to strike whenever I encountered one. And because I am now a mom, I have developed the super powers necessary to protect my baby at all costs, which includes pushing my goosebumps aside and springing my attack. (If I left the spider until Hubby came home, who knows where is would hide, ready to frighten an unsuspecting toddler. It would certainly not still be under the soap shelf, patiently awaiting its demise.)
So armed with a scrub brush (a shoe would not fit between the shower shelves) I got him, but not without getting the willies. Black spiders DO notice that an attack is coming and make a break for it just as you are about to strike. Black spiders also crinkle up into a ball and play dead, so when I removed the brush, thinking the job complete, the little critter, sprang into action once again. After two jittery attempts, it was still not dead, but I finally caught it in the bristles and flushed him. Two flushes just to make sure it wouldn't climb out of the bowl and lay in wait behind the toilet seat to exact its revenge upon my tush.
But spiders aside, it looks like spring is actually on its way (though the 30 degree weather and wintery precipitation today seem to indicate otherwise.) Thank goodness!
I'm really enjoying your posts but I wouldn't have minded using my imagination as to what a black house spider looks like. Yuck, and in the shower. How rude!
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