Jun 15, 2012

Eight Legs and Lemon Pledge: A True Story

I received an email the other day from Jamie's mom, Chris. (Hi!) She's very familiar with my fear of spiders and can often relate, so she decided to write me and share her adventure of dealing with a spider in the house when no one was around to do it for her. With her permission, I thought I'd share it here with everyone.
Hi Sammy,

I know you'll get what I'm talking about. I ran into our downstairs half bath to use it this morning. I didn't turn on the light and had just sat down when I noticed something black on the floor not far from my feet. It was about the size of a dime, but I didn't have enough light to actually see it well. I decided not to take my eyes off the thing. I was praying that it wouldn't move...and for a minute or so it didn't. Then it did and it was crawling over to the wall. I got up quickly and flipped on the light switch and there it was - - a very black and hairy spider.

I had to think fast. I couldn't yell for Tom because he was out walking the dog. I could never smush it with a tissue or even tissues because it would probably make that popping sound that they all make when their bodies are crushed. Ugh! I couldn't even just flick off the light and walk away because I knew I'd never be able to use that bathroom again unless we hunted it down and I actually saw that the creature had been "made toast."

So, I quietly opened the cabinet under the sink and considered my options. I was going to grab a container of toilet bowl cleaner and whack him, but I knew that I'd have to clean his crushed spider body off the bottle before I could use it again, and that grossed me out. I grabbed a bottle of carpet cleaner and really sprayed him good. The little sucker looked like he'd just bought the farm, but then he started to crawl again and this time right for me. So I grabbed the next bottle I could find...the lemon Pledge that moisturizes dry furniture. I soaked him in it and he must have really been dry because he stopped in his tracks and curled his legs up under his body. I quickly grabbed 4 tissues and wrapped them over each other to make about 12 layers. Then I leaned over and in one fast and smooth motion swept him up (as well as several inches of foamy carpet cleaner and lemony furniture polish)and threw his lifeless body into the toilet with one hand as I flushed with the other.

I cannot tell you how proud I was to have taken care of this monster all by myself, even though Tom's first words when he came back into the house were "What the heck is that smell coming from the bathroom?" I had to remind him that what he smelled coming from the bathroom this morning was far more fragrant than it is on most mornings. (;

love you,
I had such a laugh reading this as I could imagine just how she felt when she first saw the spot and suspected what it was. I could also relate to just about everything else in this story; I've been known to use hairspray in my defense against the eight-leggers just to prevent having to clean up a smush.

I know some people are advocates of these guys and will either leave them be, or take them outside, but I just can't. If I know he's in there, I'm thinking about it... constantly. Then if he's gone, I'm really concerned with where he might be or where he's going to turn up next. It's too much!

So thank you, dear mother-in-law, for sharing your story. I certainly can relate and I'm sure plenty of other folks can, too.

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