Adventures on the Web.
I have spiders that live in my house. I wish they wouldn’t.
I live alone now. (I believe there is a black widow spider, so I suppose we have something in common.) I knew that when October came around, there would be at least one spider the size of a soup plate.
I gave the problem some thought. How should I deal with this? Well, if I was in dire straits – suppose Hannibal Lecter was after me and there was an arachnid between me and the door – what would I do? Well, I’d try flirting with Hannibal first – I’ve read the Silence of the Lambs, and he’s quite fun as long as he likes you. If there was no Hannibal? Well a spider is about an inch high, so I could vault over it. I’d be out that door and legging it up the road like Usain Bolt.
So I was ready when Wincey arrived. He was orangey-brown, spray-tanned probably, and he was a fan of Strictly come Dancing. Come Saturday and Sunday nights Wincey was there, swaying in front of the television, (he liked the Argentine Tango, he had the legs for it.) He came out during the week for updates, rather fancying Zoe Ball. She only has two legs, of course, but she’s spindly, and may have spidery handwriting.
I used to say to Wincey: ‘OK. Here’s the deal. You don’t come near my feet, and I won’t crush you.’ I then turned out all the lights and held a magazine up to the edge of my eyes, so I couldn’t see him in the light of the TV. It rather curtailed my own dancing, and my floor exercises, but I didn’t want an eye to eye encounter with a brown recluse.
Wincey left shortly after the end of the series. He didn’t stay for the Christmas edition, probably lured into Panto, as Daddy long legs. I can’t say I missed him, but I had got used to him.
The following year Octavius took his place. He isn’t exactly a tarantula, but he’s big and black and serious looking. I call him Octavius, because he has eight legs, and is generally unattractive.
He was very well behaved at first, lying doggo in a corner and staying there while the light was on: until I went away on holiday. I was confident he would be gone by the time I came back. Wrong! He was not only there; he was a squatter, and not too amused at being disturbed. He takes off at a gallop now across the living room floor. I ignore him, he’s just showing off.
I know Octavius is male, because he does exactly as he likes, regardless of what I tell him.
There was a time when I could call for help at sight of a spider and wait with eyes closed until it was removed. Experts report that if you put them outside, ( because they have a right to live,) they just turn around and come back in when you’re not looking.
I talk to Octavius when I see him, and he looks back with soulful eyes under raised eyebrows.
When I meet him upstairs I admonish: ‘What are you doing here? Why don’t you go under a floorboard?’
‘Fat chance,’ he implies. ‘It’s wall to wall carpeting.’ Fair point, I suppose.
‘Don’t go into my bedroom,’ I tell him. Spiders exhibit sexual dimorphism. Is that similar to S and M, I wonder?
I lock eyes. ‘If I meet you on my pillow, boyo, you’ll be straight up the vacuum cleaner!’
He shrugs: resignation? Or disdain? Spider’s blood is pale blue, of course: I expect that’s where they get their lofty notions.
So far, he’s kept the bargain, hasn’t spun out of control.
I expect that soon he will want to find a mate, and spin her a line. Well, do it outside of my house. I want him to be happy, but there is a limit!
I’m not sure whether spiders have extra sensory perception – but I think he’s got the message.
LaLa Land by Malabar Cash is an ebook for Kindle: available on Amazon. Enjoy!