Eight Legged Freaks

Photo Credit

The first time I met a Hobo Spider I was cleaning out the linen closet at the end of my hall. I shifted a Monopoly game to the side, and there she was - all eight legs poised to jump, and licking her lips in anticipation of my flesh.

I stopped breathing, my heart was threatening to crack my ribcage, and sweat prickled at my armpits and forehead. Those buggers are huge.

I stood up, backed away, and not taking my eyes off her, I made my way to the kitchen where I had an econo-sized jug of insect and spider killer with a handy hose and spray nozzle. (I kept it under the kitchen sink, along with all my other poisons, like any good mom will do.) Returning to the linen closet, I slowly bent down to take my aim for Miss Spider. She stared me down as if daring me to just try it. I let lose on her - I pulled that trigger and shot her dead in the face. Except she wasn't dead; now she was just really pissed off. And that spider charged me!

It's amazing how fast they can move with those long, spindly legs when given the proper motivation. As the spider chased me down the hallway, I kept spraying, sometimes hitting, sometimes missing, but always checking over my shoulder to be sure I wouldn't trip over a toy, fall, and become a tasty lunch for my arachnid friend. I felt just like Ripley in the movie Alien, only I wished I had a flame thrower, too.

Finally, when I'd hit her with about five direct sprays of poison, she began to slow, and I could breathe again. She stopped there, where I had almost run out of space to run, and her legs began to curl underneath her. I won.

But that spider took a piece of me with her - my sense of peace in my own home. I am nearly unable to go without socks anymore. I get whiplash from doing double takes at every spec and shadow on the wall. I can't put my shoes on without wildly shaking and beating them together, and I can't reach into a dark space without wondering. I dream of her, and I wake up sweating.

Today, Cameron screamed from a back bedroom that he had found a giant spider. Of course, it's my job to come to the rescue. Even if Andrew had been home, he would have been the first one standing on a kitchen chair and waiting for a brave volunteer.

Armed with a monstrous wad of toilet paper, I went to have a look. I peered over the side of Drew's bed, and the spider's enormous pedipalps nearly hit me in the face. This was a beast. Like Godzilla and Jaws combined with the temperament of Hannibal Lecter.

He was still, and I was still. And then we did battle. He was fast. In the end - I was faster.

I don't know if I'm lucky enough to go 3-0, so his friends better not try to avenge him.