Trapped by Eight Legs

I have a fairly strong aversion to bugs. Grasshoppers and earwigs in particular. But, above them both is my aversion to spiders. Especially big, fast spiders. My dislike of spiders might even come close to that of Ronald Weasley.

This morning as I was getting out cups for the girls’ milk, something brown started to move out of the bottom cup. Thinking it was just a flake of dried chocolate soy milk, I tipped it up slightly and got a half second glimpse of something hairy with eight legs.

I slammed the cup down on the counter effectively trapping the beast without time for more than an “oh” from me. But what to do with it in its trapped state?

I didn’t want anyone to accidentally lift the cup, so I wrote a sticky note and shoved it on the cup. Please excuse the handwriting. I was still a little shaky.
DSCN1364
Then, I realized that only one of the three other people home could actually read the note. Hmmm. Maybe not so effective.

At first, I decided to leave the eight-legged menace there, trapped until my husband came home to squish it. But then, I remembered his reaction when I screamed like a little girl and dropped my son’s shoe I was carrying which had a spider on top of it just two days ago.

“Kill it!” I yelled. (My compassion doesn’t extend to anything with more than four legs. Sorry centipedes.)

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed. “That has got to be the tiniest spider in the world.”

He did proceed to squish it. But I knew if I left the spider killing for him, I would be laughed at for days. So, I decided to put on my proverbial big girl pants and smash it myself.

I literally put on my shoes, because one must never approach a scuttling threat with one’s toes exposed. Then, I asked my girls who was brave enough to lift up the cup while I squashed. Since ten-year-old was still in bed and wouldn’t get out, six-year-old reluctantly volunteered for the job.

After making her put on the appropriate foot wear, I got a huge clump of paper towels and asked her to raise the cup on three.

I should have told her which way to raise it. She raised it from the opposite side of where I was standing, and the diabolical spider leaped from the counter into an open drawer full of aprons and bibs. That thing is fast. And, yes, my scream was much louder and more frightened than hers. Just in case you were wondering.

Okay, so it wasn't quite this big, but now you're screaming, aren't you?

Okay, so it wasn’t quite this big, but now you’re screaming, aren’t you?


I’ll be cooking tonight without an apron. I’ll probably just put on an old t-shirt. For the next two weeks or so. I should have gone with the original plan. Sure, I’d have been laughed to scorn, but I wouldn’t be wondering at what point a spider might leap from a drawer or cabinet. Say a prayer for my toes in the kitchen. They’ll need all the protection they can get.

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2 thoughts on “Trapped by Eight Legs

  1. I don’t know if I could even brave cooking after that, knowing the spider and its spiderbabies are lurking somewhere. Eeee. Pay the kids to find it and kill it. Worth all the tablet time in the world!

  2. Too true. If my son weren’t off camping with Grandpa, it would already be dead. My girls are kind of wimps like me. Still haven’t found it. I cooked, but I was rather jumpy about it the whole time.

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