Never get out of the habit of doing a spider-check before turning on the shower. Sure, 99 times out of a hundred you’ll turn up nothing, and feel paranoid and silly, but that 100th time pays for all. (Or maybe more or less; I don’t know how many spiders your bathroom attracts.) And let me tell you, dealing with a spider when dry is a thousand times less drama than when wet, soapy, and vulnerable.

In other news, I encountered my third apartment spider today. A much quieter, lower-drama event than the last two, because it was neither huge nor on my ceiling, and I learned from past mistakes and did not attempt to deal with it speedily or from a distance. I saw the little black dot in the tub in my customary check, stepped back out to be out of range while I verified its identity, and swooped in to one-shot it with a wad of toilet paper. Then let myself shudder in horror.

(Please don’t tell me I shouldn’t kill them. I know that, I promise. But phobias aren’t rational, and I can’t bear the extended proximity required to relocate them, even using the cup method.)

Third apartment spider dealt with, much quicker and cleaner than either of the last two. I would like a longer break between this one and the next, though.

I'm waging a war of terror on three spiders on the inside of the garage door. Containers and water have all been used and I've only managed to trap one of the three under a container. I'm making us all miserable - and all so I can open the door and move the sprinkler to water some plants.

*sob*

Yesterday evening I encountered the first spider in my apartment.

It was an absurdly long time in coming, of course. I've lived here for eight months now (how on EARTH has it been that long already) and I've known it was coming since I first made the commitment to living alone: eventually I was going to have to deal with my own spiders.

(Possibly this introduction has given you the clue that I'm irrationally terrified of them. If you surmised this, you are correct.)

( Read more... )