It seems spring has finally sprung and with it all the delightful aspects of the season including blossoms on the trees, tulips on Temple Square and beautiful weather.
The unfortunate part: the eight-legged critters that terrify me have also started coming out. Ugh!
The other day I was washing a much-needed batch of laundry. I accidentally dropped a piece of clothing on the floor and reached down to pick it up, only to be horrified as a large black spider raced out from under it and behind the washer. I was so startled that I didn't have the presence of mind (or a shoe close at hand) to kill it. In fact, if I hadn't just washed that piece of clothing I would've thought the spider came from inside it, which grosses me out almost beyond belief!
I have no problem with spiders that live outside and will let them be, but when they're in the house, they're in my territory, and that means they don't get to live. This spider was somewhat inaccessible, but I didn't let that stop me. I grabbed my hairspray from the bathroom and sprayed the critter so it couldn't escape. Then I found my spider spray and doused it with that. About 30 seconds later I was pleased to see the spider was no more. I wish I could say my disturbed feelings went away that quickly.
The next morning I was still on my guard from the encounter the night before. Somehow I had a sneaking suspicion that there might be something icky waiting for me in the shower. And I wasn't wrong.
This time instead of a big black spider it was a smaller brown fast one. In case you're wondering, no it wasn't a hobo, just a common house spider from the looks of it. I used my lotion bottle to smash it and that was that.
I'm proud that I have learned to kill the eight-legged critters when they cross my path, but I wish I wasn't so disturbed at the idea of how many must surely be living in the basement that I'm unaware of. It might be time to redo my spider barrier which won't kill them but does provide at least some protection. Here's to a spider free remainder of the month. I can only hope. . .