A week ago I came home from work. Someone was waiting in the door.
A huge black fuzzy spider as big as a quarter. I'm not fond of spiders. At. All.
I realize that it was more scared of me - not that I could tell for sure, based on my own speeding heart rate - but it was jumping and hopping all over the place to get away from me. The problem was, it kept jumping and hopping into the door. It needed to go in the opposite direction!
After much corralling with a very long stick, it made it to the side of the door and crawled up under the siding. As long as it did not come IN my house with me, I was fine. Crisis averted.
Cue a week later:
I'm upstairs getting supper ready and my eldest says, "MOOOM, you might want to come see this." I mosey on over, "What?" He says with a gleeful glint in his eye, "What's the big black thing crawling towards your office?"
I go down a few steps and squint. EYES POP. IT'S A SPIDER!!!!!'
Yep, that huge quarter sized, eight legged, freaky spider made it INTO my house and was making a beeline straight into where I work. No. Way. Not just No, but HELL NO!
I run back into the kitchen to find a clear glass and a stiff card and I'm at that sucker. My youngest 'wants to see' and I practically snarl at him. "Do NOT get close to it, do NOT make it run into my office, STAY AWAY!
I march over stealthily and Woosh, firmly slam that the glass over the huge arachnid and gently slide the very stiff, thick and hard to bite through card to trap it under the glass. Why glass? To make sure that sucker is IN there! I wanted to make sure I could see my nemesis at all times. No surprises, no sireebob.
Then, I make the kids open the back doors and I march outside with eyes still firmly watching the enemy as it preens and cleans its fangs. I brought that sucker to a wooded area a good fifteen feet away and then let it Fly! I flung that spider into the brush in the hopes that it will find a NEW home that has nothing to do with MY home.
I walked with pride back into the house, mission accomplished. My eldest did NOT look happy.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Mom, you're a bummer. I was waiting for you to go all panicky, you know, screaming, and freak out and do girly panic stuff and you just .... I don't know...just handled it. You're no fun!" And he proceeds to walk off in a huff.
Huh. Go me.