It’s that time of year again. You know when people start talking about the evenings getting shorter and discussing how it’s getting a lot cooler. We all feel it. All creatures.
The thing is despite the seasons, we are all creatures of habit. I like a poached egg on a Friday morning. There I said it. It’s my thing. So, you can imagine my dismay when I noticed last Thursday evening there wasn’t an egg to be found in the house. To ensure stability in a world gone mad and not to upset any equilibrium, I made my way out to the shops for a half dozen of the finest orbs.
But the real story here starts on my return. As soon as I opened the hall door there was an unmerciful shriek from the epitome of witchcraft and beauty. Thinking someone had been murdered, I carefully put the eggs down in the hallway and made my way gingerly to the sitting room.
There she stood aghast, pointing to the window. I turned expecting to see some stranger outside who had followed me up the drive with a knife. Alas, there was no-one. I looked back to my beloved and she was still pointing and nodding. I followed her finger, and it was then I saw the object of her panic.
On the curtain, (a nice mint green satin effect, supposed to bring calmness, note to self: need to get a refund) was the biggest spider I have ever seen. Creature of habit you see. The way I like my eggs, this lad doesn’t like the cold. September will bring them in like a basket of apples at harvest. Having said that, I was a bit shocked myself. He was so big; I think he must have had a key and let himself in. Long legs that were so big that he had to bend them, dug into the fabric and a longer body the size of a surfboard supported them.
Now I will admit in the past, there have been challenges with requests in our house to remove spiders. The extrication of same has not always been successful and has left us on many occasions looking behind couches with cries of “Did you get it?” or “He could be anywhere now.” So due to my failure as a man, a tool was purchased. The spider grabber. A long handle with a brush like end that opens and closes when you pull the handle. The idea is to humanely put the spider in the brush, take it outside and let him run into someone else’s house. Easy enough says you, if the spider is on the floor or a wall. Chewbacca however was in the crease of the pleat on the curtain. A swift and clean catch was always going to be a challenge. Especially when I feared he might actually head butt me he was so big. Like a lion tamer with his glamorous assistant, I took the grabber from herself who had pre-prepared for the exercise, knowing I was the only person who could carry this Herculean exercise to the finish. I felt so proud. The alpha male. Her hero. The truth was there no one else there and I wasn’t getting away until it was gone.
I eased my way across the room, tentative footsteps the only sound. Trying not to catch his eye, (They were the size of planets.) Lifting the grabber discreetly as I whispered my feet across the floor. I now had the grabber at arm’s length. Like a moon walking astronaut, I opened the handle and the brush slowly expanded. All I had to do now was place it over the spider without him noticing. A steady hand and arm were required. I clenched my fist and the brush opened. Slowly, carefully, I put the brush over his body. Hold…. hold…release. Clamp. I had him! I was the saviour! We could watch the television! I turned smiling with the grabber. I had won!
I knocked my knee off the coffee table.
I dropped the grabber.
The spider fell.
She screamed.
She ran.
The Spider ran
I ran
She tripped over the eggs in the hall and fell.
She screamed
I tripped over her.
As we lay on the floor, legs tangled, intertwined, more legs than the escapee, with egg yolk dripping over us, like a game of twister that has gone horribly wrong. We watched in silence as the spider scurried out the unclosed front door. I could say he looked back and laughed but that didn’t happen.
We looked at each other in silent disbelief at the mess. Three eggs were left unbroken in the box.
“I could do a nice omelette,” says she.
I shook my head.
The thing is despite the seasons, we are all creatures of habit. I like a poached egg on a Friday morning. There I said it. It’s my thing. So, you can imagine my dismay when I noticed last Thursday evening there wasn’t an egg to be found in the house. To ensure stability in a world gone mad and not to upset any equilibrium, I made my way out to the shops for a half dozen of the finest orbs.
But the real story here starts on my return. As soon as I opened the hall door there was an unmerciful shriek from the epitome of witchcraft and beauty. Thinking someone had been murdered, I carefully put the eggs down in the hallway and made my way gingerly to the sitting room.
There she stood aghast, pointing to the window. I turned expecting to see some stranger outside who had followed me up the drive with a knife. Alas, there was no-one. I looked back to my beloved and she was still pointing and nodding. I followed her finger, and it was then I saw the object of her panic.
On the curtain, (a nice mint green satin effect, supposed to bring calmness, note to self: need to get a refund) was the biggest spider I have ever seen. Creature of habit you see. The way I like my eggs, this lad doesn’t like the cold. September will bring them in like a basket of apples at harvest. Having said that, I was a bit shocked myself. He was so big; I think he must have had a key and let himself in. Long legs that were so big that he had to bend them, dug into the fabric and a longer body the size of a surfboard supported them.
Now I will admit in the past, there have been challenges with requests in our house to remove spiders. The extrication of same has not always been successful and has left us on many occasions looking behind couches with cries of “Did you get it?” or “He could be anywhere now.” So due to my failure as a man, a tool was purchased. The spider grabber. A long handle with a brush like end that opens and closes when you pull the handle. The idea is to humanely put the spider in the brush, take it outside and let him run into someone else’s house. Easy enough says you, if the spider is on the floor or a wall. Chewbacca however was in the crease of the pleat on the curtain. A swift and clean catch was always going to be a challenge. Especially when I feared he might actually head butt me he was so big. Like a lion tamer with his glamorous assistant, I took the grabber from herself who had pre-prepared for the exercise, knowing I was the only person who could carry this Herculean exercise to the finish. I felt so proud. The alpha male. Her hero. The truth was there no one else there and I wasn’t getting away until it was gone.
I eased my way across the room, tentative footsteps the only sound. Trying not to catch his eye, (They were the size of planets.) Lifting the grabber discreetly as I whispered my feet across the floor. I now had the grabber at arm’s length. Like a moon walking astronaut, I opened the handle and the brush slowly expanded. All I had to do now was place it over the spider without him noticing. A steady hand and arm were required. I clenched my fist and the brush opened. Slowly, carefully, I put the brush over his body. Hold…. hold…release. Clamp. I had him! I was the saviour! We could watch the television! I turned smiling with the grabber. I had won!
I knocked my knee off the coffee table.
I dropped the grabber.
The spider fell.
She screamed.
She ran.
The Spider ran
I ran
She tripped over the eggs in the hall and fell.
She screamed
I tripped over her.
As we lay on the floor, legs tangled, intertwined, more legs than the escapee, with egg yolk dripping over us, like a game of twister that has gone horribly wrong. We watched in silence as the spider scurried out the unclosed front door. I could say he looked back and laughed but that didn’t happen.
We looked at each other in silent disbelief at the mess. Three eggs were left unbroken in the box.
“I could do a nice omelette,” says she.
I shook my head.