This morning, I was in my bathroom and I'm sitting down doing my business, and when I get up, I turn around. There's a window directly above and behind my toilet and sitting on that window was a spider the size of a kitten.
I'm not normally afraid of spiders. I understand that spiders have a place in the cycle of life and they keep the insect population down and that basically they're very friendly and they have a good concept of "you're too big to eat so I'm not even going to try," but this wasn't that kind of spider. We have tons of those outside.
We have these sort of daddy-longlegs things with skinny gray bodies and really, really long legs. Whole families of them will build these giant spider condos that's just one spiderweb on top of another spiderweb on top of another and the nests seem to be about 4 or 5 feet tall. Those spiders don't bother anybody. You see a couple flies trapped in there, but it's all good.
But this thing - first of all, it was a really big spider and the web was invisible. Now, let me just say that when they do that, that's not accidental. They freakin' do that on purpose, and that means that this unholy offspring of Aragog and Shelob is out get somebody. And that somebody is the only somebody who's gonna be right there, sitting right in front of that bathroom window. That would be me. That spider is out to get me.
I took a couple pictures just to illustrate the fact that this spider was indeed the size of a terrier and I, with a herioc disregard for my own safety, even went ahead and pointed to the spider so that you could see that it was easily the size of a basketball (you know, like, a really tiny basketball). And it just sat there the entire time and just sort of this weird, malevolent yellowish-brown and I kind of thought to myself "You know, this is one of those creatures that is older than the beginning of time, and it's just had an infinity of eons of history to squat there, growing in bitterness and malice and hate, not to mention poison. And it just sits there with its little venomous fangs dripping. *sigh* In my bathroom.
And what do I do? What do I do? I can't squash it, because if I squash it, the thing probably has acid for blood and it's going to eat a giant hole in my bathroom window and I'm gonna have to spend a bunch of money to replace it. I don't own a stick that would a) fit in my bathroom and b) be long enough for me to entice the spider onto the end of the stick and give me time to run out the door and shake the goddamned thing frantically off the deck because the second I get it on the stick, the spider will be running full speed up the stick to get to my arm where it's going to suck all of the blood out of my hand until it resembles that withered, rotting bony thing that grabbed Harry Potter's hand in the first movie. Not really appetizing.
So I just let it sit there, pulsing. Now, here's a thing. Think about that word. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. You're just envisioning this spider sort of throbbing. Sort of bubbling in size. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. Now, when it does that more than once, you could call it re-pulse. It was repulsive. Pulse. Pulse.
So, I did the only sane thing I could do under the circumstances. I left the house. The spider is still there on the window above the toilet. I fully expect there to be a body-ensnaring web across the bathroom door when I get home. Hopefully, I'll be able to find blowtorches and perhaps an off-duty cop. It's definitely going to take explosives and perhaps some sort of lasers to get rid of this spider because I can just see from the malevolent gleam in its eye bellies up to the bar and says "Gimme a Raid with a shot of Decon and a twist of arsenic." And that's not good.
POST SCRIPT: I'm home now, seven hours later. The spider is gone. On the one hand *whew*. The spider is gone.
On the other hand - where the hell did it GO?