Bug Battle

I am getting along with the spiders now. We are all observing our unspoken agreement to just ignore each other and it is working out well so far. For example, a couple of nights ago, I walked into the bathroom in the middle of the night and was startled by a gigantic Wolf spider on the wall. He promptly scurried off thereby keeping his end of the bargain. I didn’t kill him therefore keeping my end of the deal as well. See? No problem.

I have been having more problems with bugs now, crickets in particular. I have noticed that they have been making their way into the house lately. I hear their chirping from various locations in the house. They sometimes manage to go upstairs and I find them in the bathroom. I would guess that explains the size of that Wolf spider too.

They seem to like it if there are clothes on the floor. The kids always leave their towels there and I have learned to pick them up very carefully. As a rule, I am not terribly freaked out by crickets. I just don’t like it when they are hiding. If I am taking a bath and notice a cricket on the floor, I usually just casually wonder how high they can jump because I really don’t care for the idea of it hopping into the tub with me.

I think the day just had a bad start, bug wise. It started out with a trip to the bathroom around 4 in the morning. I was mostly asleep but noticed a bug along the woodwork in the hallway. It wasn’t a huge bug but it wasn’t small either. I tentatively decided that this mid-sized bug must be a roach, the most dreaded and feared of bugs. It ran for a couple of feet then paused. I remembered that hairspray will work to kill bugs, since I can not stand to step on them even with shoes. The hairspray method has only failed me once and to be fair, I have to admit that I just thought I was spraying the bug with hairspray, when in reality, I was spraying leave-in conditioner. It didn’t kill the bug but it sure was shiny.

I digress, back to the bug in the hallway. I took that opportunity to grab a can of hairspray out of the bathroom, lamenting the fact that the only hairspray I had was the really expensive salon stuff. This was more of a job for cheap stuff, like AquaNet. I began spraying the bug, following along as it ran into the girls' room. It slowed down to a crawl due to the bug stopping power of hairspray. Since the bug was no longer much of a threat, I took the time to get my glasses and a flashlight. I thought that I had better look to see if it really was a roach. If roaches move in then I would need a good exterminator or a U-Haul truck.

I shined the light on the offending creature only to discover that is was actually a cricket. One of his big hind legs was missing. Evidently they scurry more like a roach if they lose one of their big back legs. Or if I’m not wearing my glasses. Bottom line is that I killed a handicapped cricket due to some insect version of racial profiling.

I felt a little bad because crickets don't really hurt anything and I wouldn't kill one normally. They are normally eligible for the relocation program. The one that involves a teenage boy that I harass until he finally gives in and catches the bug and moves it outside to feed the Wolf spiders lurking by the back door.

Maybe the crickets got together and decided that I need to be punished. Or maybe it's just coincidence.

I was doing some laundry earlier today and as I was pouring the laundry detergent, a large cricket jumped at me from inside the washer. I was surprised enough that I ended up jumping and throwing the liquid detergent, which then hit me right in the face.

An hour later it was time to start another load. The laundry room can be dangerous territory but this time I knew to be on look out for crickets. I had a few things on the floor and was sorting and shaking things out. I saw a cricket on a part of a sheet and began shaking it rather enthusiastically in an attempt to dislodge the bug. I could no longer see the cricket and was thinking that the coast was clear when I realized that was so not the case.

I was horrified to discover that the cricket was perched right on my hand. I started screaming and shaking my hand in an attempt to disengage his sticky legs. Frankly, it's a miracle that it didn't end up in my hair after the day I'd had.


See the thing with crickets?

WE HAVE NO DEAL!

Spider and Tics (Yes, I Mean Tics not Ticks)

The spiders continue to take over the yard. A few days after I posted about walking face-first into the spider web, it happened again. The event was identical up to and including the hysterical flailing.

You would think that it would be safe to open the back door and walk a few steps without running into a web, wouldn’t you? It’s not like I was digging through boxes in the attic where spiders have time to set up camp. This is a well-traveled pathway after all.

After clearing off the remnants of web, I decided that it was time to hunt down the offender. I turned on the outside light and saw part of the web with a big Wolf spider that must have already started the process of rebuilding. I knocked it down with a broom determined to actually kill the little bastard once and for all. I couldn’t find a body but thought maybe I got him. I think you know where I am going with this.

I didn’t get him and it happened again. I then decided that the only rational course of action is to assume that there is always the possibility of a spider web in front of my face. Now when walking from the house to the car at night, I must wave my arms in front of my face as if I am autistic. So now I am afraid of spiders and I have developed an unusual tic. Great.

Last night I walked out the back door using my newly discovered anti-spider autistic arm wave when I realized in horror that I had just put my hand into the Wolf spider’s web. Before I could stop myself I was doing some sort of weird Ninja kick to get it off of me. I like to think it was pretty graceful, despite my lack of formal Ninja training. On some level I must have been thinking, “It’s better to touch a spider with your shoe! Use the shoe!” That’s the only thing I can think of to explain making such a spectacle of myself every time I leave the house, for God’s sake! If I start feeling compelled to utter random words like “metal” or “son-of-a-bitch” then I am definitely getting myself some medication. I can only hope that no one has seen this display.

Fortunately my next-door neighbor has a bad case of OCD and is too busy repeatedly touching every electrical appliance in the house to worry about what I am up to.