A giant-ish (well, the size of a nickel, perhaps giant-ish is a bit hyperbole) spider was just sauntering down my kitchen wall tonight, Reader. It was more of a slow mosey, really, but I knew I had to address the situation because spiders are not allowed to live inside Chez Bang Bang. It's a rule. They should read the signs posted by all the entranceways.
It crossed my mind that I would grab a paper towel, gently smoosh the towel around the spider and then re-home him. Because The Dalai Lamas Cat. Have you read this one yet, Reader? If not, add it to your reading que, it's a good little story with life lessons in there. And plus, it's about a cat. So win-win.
Then the Sauntering Spider Situation took a really disturbing turn, because it looked like there was a yellow-y clearish bubble thing on it's back, and I'm not exactly an official doctor, but I do use Web MD a lot and almost correctly diagnosed myself with skin cancer so basically I have medical skills to perform diagnostics. And that spider was either infected with ebola, or it was going to have a gazillion little spider babies all over my house. I. Was. Not. Pleased. With any of this situation. The having to take care of it part, or the just ignore it part and hope she saunters her preggo ass outta the house before hatching.
I had very little choice in this matter, and gave myself a running little pep talk in my brain as I walked past the spider, through the kitchen to get a paper towel to gently scoop it up and place it outside. Like, "Hey, SpiderWoman, I'm just gonna walk right past you, it doesn't even bother me a bit, I'm a gazillion times your size, what harm can you really do ~pushes down visions of recluse spider damage from my mind's eye ~ I'm not even slightly on edge here, Spider."
All the while I my insides were queasy and my hands were shaking. The spider didn't need to know this.
And then a few cats were sitting at the bottom of the wall, just watching this spider and it's slow descent, and basically they suck at their job which is to keep all things like spiders out of the house. So yeah, useless, and the opposite of the Dalai Lama's Cat. Or maybe they're too much like the Dalai's cat, all "Live and Let Live" bullshitty.
Regardless. I was disappointed in them.
I got the paper towel, leaned in for the spider and before I even knew what I was doing, I was screaming and making "eeekkkk" sounds and my fingers clamped together and crushed the poor little fucker. It was like I had an out-of-body spider trapping experience, with no control over my movements.
Reader. When my fingers came together, there was a popping sound combined with a specific *pop* feeling, like a pimple being popped.
I screamed even louder, and then did a little unchoreographed jig in the kitchen as I was tossing the remains in the trash. It was really a spectacular site, and you missed it. Which is why you should come over sometime! We could visit. And re-home spiders together. Since The Incident, I've been sort of afraid to go near the trash - which is totally rational, I know - but you could throw out all my garbage for me while you're here, too!
So yeah. That happened. And now I'm just like Planned Parenthood, only I don't have free condoms to hand out.* I fully expect the Republicans and Christians to boycott the fuck outta me and take away my funding.
*I'm not sure if Planned Parenthood actually passes out free condoms, but it seems like something they might do and it's easier to just go with it than to actually look it up and be sure. I'm good with just guessing. It's the Lazy Girl Research and yeah, I'm going to trademark the shit outta that. Just as soon as I make up a way to go about trademarking things. Here! I think actually posting it HERE, RIGHT NOW, is sort of like claiming dibs on it! Consider yourself trademarked, Lazy Girl Ways. I see a new venture in our future. As soon as we can get off of the couch.