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Sep. 11th, 2010 03:21 pmIf there was a zombie apocalypse, I could totally handle it. I have escape routes and everything. I like to think I could probably handle a mass velociraptor attack. What I am completely failing to handle, though, is THE SPIDER APOCALYPSE. My parents house backs on to a field, and as soon as autumn begins to show every spider in Lancashire seems to see our house. I have no coping mechanisms for spiders, as ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stupidore will attest to. El Parento are not here right now. This combination of things has led to a temporary alliance between Megan and me, as she has no desire to have unexpected beasties running around and I have turned into a shrieking maniac who seems believe that going up and down stairs will somehow stop the spiders despite them not being 1970s Daleks.
When I see a spider, I generally analyse on basis of size and speed. If the spider is still and remains absolutely still - and isn't in my way at all - I can generally live and let live on the basis that although my hindbrain is gibbering in fear my logical brain rationalises that they are handy for getting rid of the flies and more importantly it causes me no immediate threat.
However, we run into problems if the spider is moving. If it's a small spider I generally flail while my hindbrain shrieks KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT and many of them have died through the wrath of a hastily grabbed shoe.
When it's large, though, then we run into significant problems. I am forcing myself to be relatively calm if they are staying still. This was proved last night for Spider Crisis 1, where I leaned down to pick up a wine bottle and a spider approximately the size of my palm was calmly sat on the kitchen floor. I put a glass over it, then realised I had no further options as I couldn't bear to go anywhere near it. Megan got it out of the house.
Later on, I had some wine and watched Big Brother, as we all know. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a spider roughly the size of a chihuahua scuttle across the floor. I leapt to the top of the sofa and prayed it would move nigh on anywhere else. It didn't and moved towards the sofa. I fled the room and remained fled.
ew
This morning I woke up and went straight out to the shops, needed to visit the Post Office and pick up some food. I came home and decided to clean. "There's a spider under the sofa," Megan said calmly.
"OKAY LOVELY," I gabbled. Obviously taking the throws off the sofa was the most logical course of action, so I did, and the SPIDER THE SIZE OF A CHIHUAHUA emerged. Okay, it wasn't that big but in all seriousness it was about the size of a sideplate and it was scuttled like no one's business and the two combined led to me shrieking like a banshee, fleeing up the stairs and howling "GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT" and clutching my chest. Megan went at it with the hoover. Apparently it fought the hoover for some time and then it was gone. The hoover was put into quarantine in the garage for some time, allowing the spider to escape if it wanted to. I am not cruel. I know, logically, that spiders are not evil and are completely not harmful to me but the hindbrain shrieks that they are going to kill me dead and I can't help it at all. And this was one like nothing I have ever, ever seen before.
Sometime later, I have calmed down enough to make soup and then Megan says "You know, that one I saw under the sofa didn't look like that big one." Surprise surprise, another one makes an appearence and my nerves are too frayed to take it anymore and I make a big for freedom. Megan does the glass trick on that spider.
She is now in work, something for which I am grateful because I get a night to myself, but if anymore of the critters come into the house I'm leaving it for them. I know enough people with enough sofas who don't live with fields behind their house.
Curse you, global warming. I am moving back to Scotland. Possibly the Shetland Isles. IT IS COLD THERE.
stupidore will attest to. El Parento are not here right now. This combination of things has led to a temporary alliance between Megan and me, as she has no desire to have unexpected beasties running around and I have turned into a shrieking maniac who seems believe that going up and down stairs will somehow stop the spiders despite them not being 1970s Daleks.When I see a spider, I generally analyse on basis of size and speed. If the spider is still and remains absolutely still - and isn't in my way at all - I can generally live and let live on the basis that although my hindbrain is gibbering in fear my logical brain rationalises that they are handy for getting rid of the flies and more importantly it causes me no immediate threat.
However, we run into problems if the spider is moving. If it's a small spider I generally flail while my hindbrain shrieks KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT and many of them have died through the wrath of a hastily grabbed shoe.
When it's large, though, then we run into significant problems. I am forcing myself to be relatively calm if they are staying still. This was proved last night for Spider Crisis 1, where I leaned down to pick up a wine bottle and a spider approximately the size of my palm was calmly sat on the kitchen floor. I put a glass over it, then realised I had no further options as I couldn't bear to go anywhere near it. Megan got it out of the house.
Later on, I had some wine and watched Big Brother, as we all know. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a spider roughly the size of a chihuahua scuttle across the floor. I leapt to the top of the sofa and prayed it would move nigh on anywhere else. It didn't and moved towards the sofa. I fled the room and remained fled.
ew
This morning I woke up and went straight out to the shops, needed to visit the Post Office and pick up some food. I came home and decided to clean. "There's a spider under the sofa," Megan said calmly.
"OKAY LOVELY," I gabbled. Obviously taking the throws off the sofa was the most logical course of action, so I did, and the SPIDER THE SIZE OF A CHIHUAHUA emerged. Okay, it wasn't that big but in all seriousness it was about the size of a sideplate and it was scuttled like no one's business and the two combined led to me shrieking like a banshee, fleeing up the stairs and howling "GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT" and clutching my chest. Megan went at it with the hoover. Apparently it fought the hoover for some time and then it was gone. The hoover was put into quarantine in the garage for some time, allowing the spider to escape if it wanted to. I am not cruel. I know, logically, that spiders are not evil and are completely not harmful to me but the hindbrain shrieks that they are going to kill me dead and I can't help it at all. And this was one like nothing I have ever, ever seen before.
Sometime later, I have calmed down enough to make soup and then Megan says "You know, that one I saw under the sofa didn't look like that big one." Surprise surprise, another one makes an appearence and my nerves are too frayed to take it anymore and I make a big for freedom. Megan does the glass trick on that spider.
She is now in work, something for which I am grateful because I get a night to myself, but if anymore of the critters come into the house I'm leaving it for them. I know enough people with enough sofas who don't live with fields behind their house.
Curse you, global warming. I am moving back to Scotland. Possibly the Shetland Isles. IT IS COLD THERE.
