I walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Something high up on the wall catches my eye.
What is that? I look again.
Now, here's what usually happens when I see a bug in the house: I call "Jon!" in a very sweet voice and then beseech him to take care of it. He looks at me in disgust for my disgust and giant-bug-induced paralysis, and then he gets the vacuum and poof! no more bug.
Jon left on a business trip this morning.
And, I really don't want to wake my sleeping child with the sound of the vacuum.
I confess to you that I seriously thought about just turning off the light, closing the door, and going upstairs, trusting that the GIANT SPIDER in my kitchen could NOT go under three doors and up onto my daughter's bed to crawl across her while she's sleeping. Or, not climb up a flight of stairs, go through two doors, and get up on MY bed. Did I mention that the notion of bugs crawling on me while I'm asleep gives me the heebie-jeebies? Well, actually, bugs crawling on me at all. But in bed while asleep is the stuff of nightmares. [To get totally off the subject, I believe there was a scene in The Poisenwood Biblethat pushed all of these buttons. Wave after wave of bugs, and the family had to flee its home in the dead of night. At least, I think it was bugs. Great book, nasty, scary chapter.]
Anyway, so I realized I would have to deal with the GIANT SPIDER by myself, with no vacuum. Oh, and did I tell you about the extreme ookiness of squishing an insect? When you can feel the exoskeleton crunch between your fingers, even if said insect is deep within some sort of tissue? EW. And? If I hit that thing with something? HUGE nasty stain on the wall.
Hence, the plastic cup. Of course, I had to drag a chair over to stand on because the GIANT SPIDER was too high up for me to reach. Then, I tried to catch it under the cup. But it DROPS onto my KITCHEN COUNTER and scuttles back beside the coffee grinder.
Again, I contemplate just walking away, quietly.
But no. So I move the coffee grinder and gingerly look behind it. With a piece of cardboard torn from a pizza box, I block the GIANT SPIDER's only avenue of escape into the wires coiled in the corner of the counter, and it moves fast as lightning toward me. I must admit I uh, backed away. And maybe made a slightly terrified sound. And shuddered. But it stopped under the shade of a paper towel. So, me with the cup. I got it. It made the ooky rattling noise as it tried to get out. I slid the cardboard under the cup, taking the paper towel with it, and deposited everything in the backyard. Then I came inside and shut the door, tight. Never to enter the yard again.
Well, ok, I'll probably go out tomorrow and knock the cup over from a distance and then throw out the cup and the cardboard. But it's dark out now! How would I know if the GIANT KILLER SPIDER came at me if I lifted the cup now?
P.P.S. Hi, dear! Hope you had a nice flight. Everything's fine here, other than the big giant bug. Can you get home before the angry one in the backyard sneaks its way back in and brings its friends? Love you!