Actually, for the sake of accuracy, let me strike the word "little" from the record. The spider on my ceiling was absolutely enormous and dee-sgusting! There I am, eating my toaster strudel, trying to figure out what to wear to work, and all of a sudden I see the spider and have to go into battle mode. Now, before you think I'm just a sissy who can't handle a little spider, let me give you some background on my history with spiders and also try to convey to you accurately just how huge and disgusting this particular spider was. When I was growing up, I shared a room with my sister who was terrified of spiders. Whenever she saw one, she could only scream and yell for someone to get it. Since I was her little roommate who was not afraid of spiders, any spider killing done in our room was executed by me. I was also taught by my mom that Daddy Long Legs are good spiders because they eat the aphids on the rose bushes. So, whenever I see a Daddy Long Legs, I pick it up by one of its very long legs and carry it outside and put it on the bushes. I'm really not afraid of spiders.
Now for the intruding spider of this morning. This spider was the biggest spider I have ever seen in my life besides tarantulas. This leads me to believe that this spider was almost certainly a baby tarantula. How it came to be in my room, I have no idea. But, the spider was GINORMOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At least a couple inches including the legs. And a spider that big and ugly must be disposed of at once. Battle stations everyone! Upon seeing the spider, my mind immediately went to work with the scenario and my different options. Option 1: Leave the spider alone, finish getting ready, and go to work. Out of the question. A spider that big could not be left running loose in my bedroom, where, fast asleep, I am vulnerable to a savage spider attack. Option 2: Squash it. This is a fairly decent option, but given the size and ugly factor of the spider, I realize that I am not up to the challenge. I can see very clearly what will happen if I try to kill it with my bare hands (and some kleenex). I will get poised in the attack position, kleenex in hand. I will hesitate for a few moments, working up the courage to pounce. As sweat begins to bead up on my forehead and I become nervous of failure, I will quickly stab at the spider, but being intimidated by its ginormity, the stab will be too weak, the spider will fall and scamper into some dark corner before I can get it. Again, failure is not an option, so I need a different solution. As all of this goes through my mind, I remember the bug zapper. Blessed bug zapper! The bug zapper looks like a tennis racket with very small metal rods. When you push the two side buttons, it conducts electricity through the rods, effectively shocking anything that touches it. My niece knows from first hand experience. It's a strong shock for a human, so basically bugs stand no chance. I've never used the bug zapper on a spider before, but it's effective on flying bugs and seems my best option at this point. So, with a quick glance at the baby tarantula, I dash into the kitchen to retrieve the bug zapper. I quickly run back and check the spider. It hasn't moved. I climb up on my bed with the bug zapper in hand. Getting into position just below the spider, I hit the side buttons and touch the bug zapper to the spider. Not surprisingly, sparks fly from the spider and its legs bend into a little ball. With the spider now twitching on top of the bug zapper, I gingerly walk to the front door, open it and toss the contorted spider outside. After washing my hands (I didn't ever touch the spider, but it was so disgusting that I had to wash my hands for psychological reasons), I then finished getting ready for work and headed out the door having won a very important battle. And, I wasn't even late!
