8 legged fury.

Recently there has been an influx of spider activity in my house. I don't know where they are coming from, or how they are getting in, but I am positive they are plotting my death. I can tell because I see them curled into little balls in corners I can't reach, and then... BAM. They are all sprawled out in the middle of a wall or ceiling, pulling the trigger on whatever they've been planning, being all, "THE TIME IS NOW, MOTHER FUCKER." and getting ready to spring at my face. OK, so maybe none have actually leaped at me, but that doesn't mean they won't. These spiders are horrifying in appearance as well. They are all light tan colored with these long ass legs that make me feel itchy when I see them.
They look like this:

Once you're asleep, I'm going to walk on your nose.

Do you even have any idea how hard it was for me to Google image search for that? I'm having PTSD tremors right now. ...I feel like they are on me.....Is there one on me? ARE THERE SPIDERS ON ME?!?!

OK, sorry. Lost it a little right there.

When I encounter one of these little beasts, the usual protocol is as follows:

          1) See spider.

          2) Turn head, pretending you didn't see spider.

          3)  Look back at spider verrrrry slowly. Yeah, no, he's definitely still there.

          4) Shiver and run out of room.

          5) Find Amanda.

          6) Beg her to get the spider for you by hopping from one foot to the other going, "spiderr, spiderrr, spiderrrrr"

          7)  Scream as Amanda kills spider.

          8)  Shake entire body uncontrollably. (I want you to picture a wet dog shaking here)

Bad Decision:  Engaging in multiple life endangering activities on a daily basis, such as riding a motorcycle, and jumping 4 foot fences on a horse.

Better Bad Decisions:  Not adding Spider-Death-Battles to this list.

The fact that Amanda will generally come to my aid at any moment I find a spider gives her infinity points in my book. (In return I give insects with singers dirty looks when they come near her.) Last night, however, I arrived home to find not one, but TWO spiders having a meeting about my death on my bathroom ceiling. I proceeded with steps 1-4 of the protocol. And then it hit me......

AMANDA IS NOT HOME.

My heart dropped, my pulse raced, I may or may not have broken out in a cold sweat. I grabbed my phone and called her.

          ME: Ummm...Amanda?....um..when do you think you'll be home?

          AMANDA:  I don't know...haven't left yet. Why?

          ME: Uhhh....well..There's..um...TWO SPIDERS IN MY BATHROOM.

          (initial attempts to remain calm failed here.)

          AMANDA:  Oh god. You're fine. Just kill them. You can do it.

          ME: I cannnnn'tttttt. (peer around door frame into bathroom.) Oh god, they're huge.

          AMANDA:  frustrated sigh

          ME:  What can I use to kill them? I have to remain very far away. What can I fashion together?

          AMANDA: Use the swiffer.

My roommate is a genius.

One swiffer wet jet, one paper towel, two pieces of tape:

I will swiff the shit out of you.

With my new power weapon I headed into the bathroom....after I stripped down to my bra and underwear. If those 8 legged wolverines were going to jump at me, I was not going to give them folds of fabric to hide in.

I did not think to take pictures of the rest of the battle because, well, you know, the HORROR. But here is a dramatic re-enactment:

This is our ceiling now. We be chillin. Get lost human, we are trying to plan your demise.

What? I don't even see you. No that's not a swiffer weapon behind my back.

I tentatively lifted the swiffer, aligned it with the first spider, and smacked the ceiling with it. First spider down.

But now the second one knows what's up.

He moves an inch.

I scream.

"MAN UP, ASHLY" I yell at myself, and smack the ceiling with the swiffer weapon again. Second spider down. Oh my god. It's over. I did it. I DID IT.

.....

It's not over. Their bodies are still on the floor....

That's what you get for killing us, you murderer.

I look frantically around for something I can use to pick them up with that won't require me to feel them through cloth. A box of light bulbs on my dresser agrees to sacrifice part of itself for the greater good.

You're worth 300 watts to me, light bulbs.

I attempt to scoop up the first spider with my cardboard shovels, but I end up screaming once or twice and throwing everything I'm holding to the ground. Eventually I am able to pull it together enough to scoop him up by repeating to myself, "it's just a piece of dust, it's just a piece of dust." Then I go for the second one. The second I touch him with my cardboard he moves. IT'S STILL ALIVE. I grab the swiffer and smack the floor a dozen times like a maniac.

That one's the faker.

Finally the ordeal is over. 10 minutes of panic, 10 minutes of swiffer prep, 10 minutes of hyping myself up, and 30 minutes of battle. One hour. 2 spiders. Me.

I have won.

....And then I found two more in the laundry room. Luckily Amanda had just arrived home.

Life Lesson:  They never stop coming.

Is it on me?

-LSLP, Ash.