revenge of the spiders

It's after ten and I really should be in bed, but I just don't want to go there. Not that I'm not tired, it's just that a spider jumped out of the bedclothes this morning.

You read right - A SPIDER JUMPED OUT OF THE BEDCLOTHES this morning! Not just a friendly little jumping spider, not even a creepy daddy long legs - a 2cm long, reddish brown, hairy number that hitherto I have been unable to identify though I suspect he snuck in two nights ago when the front door was open and it rained outside.

This little creature has hung like a spectre over my whole day - running across my feet, dangling from my hair, tickling my arm, lurking in dark corners, jumping out of drawers. Of course, when I go to catch and destroy him, there's no trace of him and the spectre dances on across my mind.

Today's event caps off a couple of interesting spider incidents, one involving a jumping spider that I unwittingly tortured in a most cruel way.

The little fellow, decorated with a cheerful yellow stripe, was trying to walk down the side of the oven. Except the oven was on and it was burning his little feet, poor thing. He kept swinging out from the metal surface to escape, but, unable to maintain his position in midair, returned over and over to the searing heat of the oven. Soon he gave up and scurried back to the stove top where I waited, stirring a pot of stew. Momentarily defeated, he dropped himself a few centimetres from the stove overhang and curled up into a ball. Of course I blew hot air on him (how could I resist?) and he set off to prance around on the side of the oven once more. Poor little thing - he was obviously in pain, but my soft spot for jumping spiders does not extend to search and rescue. I let him be. Eventually he figured out that if he jumped far enough he would land on the side of the cupboard, which was not as hot, and there he sat until I turned the oven off, the furnace cooled and he could safely scamper wherever he liked.

This is rather a cute spider story in my opinion - 'arachnoid triumphs over trial'. The happy ending almost fills one with a warm glow...

Not so today's story. This makes me recoil with absolute horror. Especially since it went from bad to worse!

I flicked the doona off the bed so I could change the sheets, and as you know, out jumped THE SPIDER. I gasped rather loudly and squeaked out a plea for help. Frank marched boldly into the room and together we peered under the dressing table - sure enough, there was the big, reddish-brown hairy monster crawling along the skirting board. We breathed a collective sigh of relief that it wasn't a white tail and Frank exited the room to collect an extermination device. I stood by the bed shaking, waiting for Frank to return and rescue me from the hideous sight. Frank reentered and bent down to kill the spider and....

... it was gone! No where in sight! As I stood cowering in fear, the little bugger had scampered away to freedom. We moved the dressing table, the laundry hamper, lifted the mat but it all to no avail. He could not be found. (Why do I always think of spiders as male?)

How awful! Even now I don't want to enter the bedroom. Frank may be sleeping soundly and safely, but what if the spider comes out and eats us in the night? Too terrible.

So as you go about your day on the other side of the globe, please spare a thought for me, asleep with the spider! If I don't post tomorrow, you'll know I've been carried off by the hoary beast.

(Is this revenge of the spiders? A spider revolt? A reddish-brown hairy beast sent on a reprisal mission? If so - I repent. I promise to never again participate in any form of spider torture. I'll just kill you straight out! I hereby commit to the humane treatment of all spiders within the four walls of my home. I'll also shut the front door every night, even if it is hot and muggy)