I Can't Believe That Worked!

Good Morning, Friends!!

I apologize in advance if this is just one chaotic ramble.  It's early, I haven't had much coffee yet, and I'm super excited.  I probably shouldn't be attempting to type anything at this point -- not sure my fingers are really awake yet.

Prepare to share in my moment of joy....

The spider is gone!!!!

I don't even know how that is possible.

Sure, I threatened it and wrote it a nasty letter.  Did anyone really think that was going to work, Friends?  No, no we did not.  Last I knew spiders did not speak English, and they certainly didn't go online and read blog posts.  (Although they do spend a lot of time on the web.  Sorry.  Had to be said.)

I actually figured it was going to go all Charlotte's Web and create some huge and creepily beautiful web all over my back steps. Probably with a message telling me to f%&k off, or a picture of it giving me the finger.

I mean, it's totally gone.  No sign of the spider, not a trace of its web left.  Like it just vanished, or was a scary figment of my imagination to begin with.

The Interloper (neighborhood feral cat) was outside giving me the sad eyes, waiting for breakfast.  I was hesitant to even open the back door and see what the spider had gotten up to last night.  I was fully prepared to only use the front door today if the spider had hunkered in and made a huge web.

But there is no spider.  There is no web.  There's not even a trace of the web that I know it had built yesterday.

This is amazing!  I can't tell you how happy I am about all of this, Friends!

How did this happen?

--Did someone I know sneak over here in the middle of the night and vanquish my spider foe for me? If yes, then I love you and will buy you many gifts!

--Did it get too chilly outside, and the spider decided to leave for a more suitable climate?  Fine by me, as long as it didn't include moving into my house.

--Did a neighborhood critter decide it looked like a tasty treat and chomped the spider up as a delicacy?  Bon appetit! Feel free to eat all the spiders you can find.

--Maybe The Interloper cleared it out in thanks for getting fed breakfast every day.  I doubt that, but it's still a possibility.

--Or maybe the spider really did understand what I said to it.  In which case I am slightly freaked out that there is a super-smart, English speaking spider living on my lawn that may or may not be pissed off with me. Not really....but you can bet it will cross my mind if it shows up again at some point in the near future.

Friends:  the spider is gone!  This is already turning out to be an awesome day!!

You Have 24 Hours to Move On

Hey, Friends.

So, remember how I dislike abhor detest hate spiders?  Like, I seriously fucking hate them with a fiery passion. They don't like me much either.  They have violated the sanctity of my shower.  More than once (or resurrected, take your pick.)

Imagine how much less than thrilled I was when I was leaving for work only to discover this bad boy hanging out on the railing on the back steps.

So much less than okay.  

Oh, you bet your ass I zoomed in for that little photo.  No way in the world was I getting close enough where it could be within striking distance, or accidentally bump into me if the wind blew too hard.

Just look at that thing!  All creepy and hairy and dangly.  I can't swear that he is related to the Giant Ninja Spiders that kept invading my shower last summer...but he looks like he is up to no good.  Just hanging there, pondering the best way to get into my house.

I determined that he was too big to be easily squashed with a shoe, and I had to leave for work. No time to plot out a strategy for his demise.  Also, I haven't restocked my supply of The Spray of Death yet, so couldn't do that to stun him.

Instead, I threatened him.  I'm pretty sure he understood me. He wiggled around a bit on his strand of web. I told him he had to leave.  No matter how luxurious he may find the railing of my back steps, it was time to move along.  There's a perfectly lovely garden on the other side of the lawn.  Please remove yourself from my house and go live a happy spider life elsewhere.

I get home from work this evening and immediately check the railing.  Do you think he packed up his cares and woes, moseyed off into the sunset as ordered?  Of course not!  Stupid, rebellious spider.

Someone didn't listen very well

Instead, it decided to start spinning its web in earnest.  That strand is much thicker than it was this morning.  It's unpacking its little spider bags and setting up house in my railing.  This is unacceptable!  I tried to be nice, and it threw it back in my face.

It's on now, spider.

Dear Spider On My Porch Railing:

I'll honor my end of the agreement and give you until morning to get the hell out of here. If you choose to stay and continue to ignore my kind offer of relocating?  I will end you.

Okay...maybe not me personally, but I will find someone to smash the shit out of you.  You will feel my wrath by proxy!  

You best pray to every spider deity you have that I do not walk into a web when I open the back door in the morning.  A web so much as touches me and I will use everything in my arsenal to make sure you die.  It won't be pretty or pleasant.  It will probably involve a lot of different cleaning products, possibly some Febreze as that is the only aerosol spray I currently have, and many shoes.  You might smell nice, but you won't be around to enjoy it.  You will literally be the goo on the bottom of my shoe.

I don't think either of us really want to go that route.  Consider your options and make the wise decision.

XOXO,

ME

And that's the current situation, Friends. I feel a bit like the Dread Pirate Roberts. "Good night, Spider.  Good work.  Sleep well.  I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

At Least I Can Give Them a Sugar High

Hey there, Friends.

So, this actually happened the evening before my last post -- we're time-travelling backwards, Friends!  If you already read that post, then this will fill in some of the details that might have had you scratching your head and wondering how it could possibly make sense.  Maybe you weren't wondering about it at all.  I don't know what goes on in your head when you read my babbling here.  If you haven't read it yet (and you really should, but I'm incredibly biased on this) you can do that after you have read this, and then you'll be reading it in chronological order and everyone else will just be screwed.  Deal?  Fabulous.

The other night I ran a book group at work, and we were discussing Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess.  I hadn't gotten many suggestions from my group when making the choices for this quarter, so this choice was all me.  I loved her first book, was pretty sure I was going to love this one as well, and there were enough copies in the library system that no one would have to go out and buy it.  I mean, not that they couldn't or shouldn't buy it, but we're a library so it's good to use library resources.   This is the cover of the book, which will hopefully make things just a little clearer for those of you who haven't read it and/or have never heard of The Bloggess before.  (You should really remedy that because she is wonderful!)

How could you not want to read a book with that cover?

As you may recall, Friends, I like to go a tad overboard for my book group.  I try to have thematically relevant decor and refreshments.  I want it to be an experience, damn it!  There was the time I tried (and failed rather spectacularly -- thanks Pinterest!) to make Unicorn Poop cookies when we discussed Sandman: Preludes & Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman.  I also made little sinking Twinkie Titanics when we discussed A Night to Remember by Walter Lord.  There have also been some interesting holiday choices, which included zombies and Gingerdead Men.  

It was not going to be possible to try and discuss Furiously Happy without getting my hands on some sort of taxidermy animals.  I don't happen to own any -- they kind of creep me out a little bit.  I was really hoping I knew someone who did, or maybe they knew someone they could borrow it from. Hopefully something small, not like a giant full-on bear poised to devour us all.  Although a bear would be kind of cool, if a bitch to lug around.  To that end, I emailed the entire staff, and one person came through for me.  Victory!

I'm not going to tell you all about the book, I'm just going to tell you to read it.  It is by turns hilarious -- like literally laugh out loud while reading -- and a bit heartbreaking to realize what she struggles with on a daily basis.  It also made me, at least, feel very proud of her for just continuing to live her life and embrace it all.  And I think her husband might be due for sainthood.

This post is about my attempt to capture the spirit of the book for my book group.  If you've read it, feel free to tell me whether I succeeded or failed miserably.  I did my best.

Since I had managed to score a bit of taxidermy, it obviously had to be the star attraction of the table, yet not be near anything that could potentially spill on it or damage it.  What marvel of the natural world had I managed to borrow?  The leg and talon of a Great Horned Owl!  It came from Oregon.  Apparently my coworker's friend -- who lives in Oregon -- had found the already deceased owl, and had taken it home and taxidermied it themselves. (Spell check says "taxidermied" isn't a word, but I have no clue what else to use.  "Preserved" seems like it should be more for antiques and historical documents, or for making jam.  But I digress.) Anyway, they taxidermied the owl, and then sent my coworker the leg and talon.  She even had a holder for it.  This was fantastic!  I had the whole backstory on the item.

You can't just put a piece of owl on the table and not expect to get a few questions.

Friends, let's take a look at the whole table before I break it down for you any further.  We got the star of the hour out of the way already.

It looks nice, right?  I even gave them the coloring page  that didn't make her next book, but which she kindly posted on her website.

Right behind the owl piece, I had the zombies and a picture of Rory.

It would be wrong to discuss the book without Rory the Ecstatic Raccoon being present.

So, there were several mentions of zombies in the book.  That's my little Dismember Me zombie doll. This was actually his 4th (I think -- might be more) appearance at a book group.  That might actually be more zombie-action than most book groups would have, but I like to think it makes us a bunch of special little snowflakes.  Conveniently, the Halloween candy is already in stores so I was able to get a bunch of Sour Patch Kid zombie candy as well.  I really wanted gummy body parts-- particularly the feet -- but I couldn't find them anywhere yet this year.  Yeah.  Gummy body parts totally exist, and I have bought them before.  The chocolate animal crackers are there because I felt bad about not being to get my hands on any more taxidermy, so I wanted to up the animal presence.

Moving right along...

 Fortune cookies

As seen in the previous post, I got 2 fortunes in one magical cookie.

I know, Friends.  You must wondering what the heck this book is about.  Taxidermy, zombies, and now fortune cookies?  It might seem like I was having a moment and thought, "What would be the most random assemblage of shit I could just throw on the table?" but it really does make sense in the context of the book! You see, at one point in the book she finds a Zoltar Fortune Teller like in the movie Big, and decides that it should be their guide for future financial planning.  Those fortunes are much better than fortune cookies.  I'm good, but I wasn't going to be able to get my hands on a Zoltar machine, so fortune cookies would have to do.

Next up....

It's a boring picture.  Work with me.

Frankenstein had been mentioned at some point, and once again the lovely Halloween candy selection came through and I found tic-tacs  in a Frankenstein head.  In the book there was also a bit about what would happen if the gold standard our monetary system was based on suddenly went to shit.  Like, what if countries without a lot of gold decided, "Screw you guys, were basing our monetary system on spiders."  Now, I'm relatively sure she was talking about real spiders.  I don't know that she even took the abundance of fake spiders into account, which could make it even more interesting.  If you've been here for a while, Friends, you know that I have issues with spiders.  I fucking hate them with a passion. I'm pretty sure they are equally as passionate about trying to destroy me.  (You should really click those links, kids.  Spiders are kind of my archenemy.)  The fact that I was even willing to buy those bad boys and sit them on the table, to have them there being creepy for an entire book group, speaks volumes about how hard I tried to make this awesome.  

Oh, and there was pie.  Cherry flavored, and not the math kind.  The author doesn't like the math kind of pi.

A selection of related reading materials, in case anyone wanted to check them out.

That last bit should be expected.  It's a library. David Sedaris was mentioned in the book.  I, of course, had to include Jenny Lawson's first book (which you should also read), and then some others I thought people would like.

I tried, Friends.  I tried my best to capture the spirit of the book.  I might not have been able to make everyone Furiously Happy, but at least I could give them one hell of a sugar high.

Shower of Terror

aka Motherf%*king Spiders in My Motherf%*king Shower

Here's some music to set the mood, as it is all that has been going through my head since this happened.

This was going to be a nice post about the Street Fair I worked at today, but that has now changed.  It changed because the ninja spider from my last post wasn't dead!  Yeah.  Apparently that was just wishful thinking on my part.

At least, I assume it was the same ninja spider. 

It better have been the same one.....No.  We're going to go with it being the same ninja spider from before because I don't even want to think about this being the vanguard of some Giant Spider Army that is coming in through the shower.  

I know this is going to sound like some made-up bullshit, but I swear it just happened, and it freaked me the hell out.  The spiders have upped their game to the next level!  Sneaky bastards.

So, I'm in the shower.  I had left the Croc in there as protection as I still wasn't sure if the ninja spider was dead or regrouping his strength somewhere.  I'd been in there about 15 minutes or so -- already washed the hair, had the conditioner soaking in -- taking care of other shower business.  As you do.

I'd been in there for a while is my point.

I accidentally drop the cap to my conditioner, and it bounces off the Croc.  I bend down to pick it up, face close to the Croc, and I watch in horror as the ninja spider crawls up out of the Croc.

I froze.

Holy shit, the ninja spider is in the shower with me! And it is on the damn Croc! The Croc I am supposed to be killing it with!!

Not gonna lie, I felt very betrayed that the Croc of Protection was, in fact, harboring the enemy.

What am I going to do?  I'm freaking naked, with a head full of conditioner, and my weapon of choice has turned traitor on me.

I'm thinking the shampoo must have gotten to him, or he was very busily trying not to drown, because ninja spider was not on his A-Game tonight.  Oh, he had the element of surprise -- but his moves weren't there after that.

Thankfully, he seemed to need a minute to adjust and just froze, clinging to the top of the Croc.  I seized the moment to pick up my biggest bottle of shampoo and attempt to smash him to bits.

I was pretty sure I got him, but he managed to crawl through a hole back into the Croc, valiantly trying to gain shelter.

I stared him down, looking for any sign of movement while washing the conditioner out of my hair as fast as possible.

Shower time is over!  I am not fighting this spider naked.  I will at least be wearing a towel, thank you very much.

Ninja spider still wasn't moving.  Did I finally manage to kill it?

Clad in my towel and still incredibly freaked out, I ran and grabbed my phone to shoot video.  I know no one is going to believe this shit happened to me.  How many spider confrontations can one person have in their shower?!

**Warning: the following brief video contains some swearing, which really shouldn't be a surprise at this point.  Also some loud breathing as I was in full-on panic mode at that point.  And I kind of forgot what the heck I was washing out of my hair.  I said shampoo, but it was really conditioner.**

Yes, I do have yellow duckies on the bottom of my tub to prevent slipping.  Shush.  Not the point.

He was dead.  Although I did wait a few more minutes before scooping his lifeless body out of the Croc with copious amounts of toilet paper.  He has now been flushed away and can go join his Giant Spider friend in the Great Beyond.

I'm sure I have a lot of conditioner that is still lingering in my hair.  I was all about speed of exiting the Shower of Terror, not about the thoroughness of the hair rinsing. No way I am getting back in that shower tonight.  I'm going to consider it an extra-deep conditioning treatment.

I need to buy more Spray of Death.  Any more Giant, Fast, Ninja Spiders show up I need to take them out in the first round.  No more wondering if the opponent is dead. And definitely no more naked mid-shower rematches.  Croc the Betrayer is now outside on the back steps.  It can dry out there over night and think about what it has done.

I need a drink.

I Just Took a Shower With My Shoe

I know what you're thinking:  two updates in a matter of hours?  Usually we have to wait days for you to get around to posting an entry!

Guilty as charged, Friends.

However, before you get too excited about this, please know that it is only happening because I have once again been traumatized by my nemesis -- the spider.  Click here if you need a refresher on how much I hate spiders.  Well, you can get excited about it, I guess.  I do like the fact that you must enjoy reading my ramblings, even if they are happening in the middle of the night because I have been freaked the hell out.

All I wanted to do was take a shower and relax, maybe try out the new shampoo that they gave me when I got my hair cut.  This should not be an earth-shattering or complicated affair.

I pulled back the shower curtain and started to reach for the tap when I saw it: a spider had set up camp and made a web right by the faucets. It literally did this in the last few hours.  It was absolutely not there the last time I looked at the shower. He's just chilling, dangling his creepy ass right there.

You best believe I did a quick check to make sure it wasn't the big, fast one that I defeated in the last battle.  It couldn't be!  I killed him multiple times over, and flushed him.  No, this one is not as big. This is a new intruder.

Now what?

I left the bathroom.  Retreating is always a good option whilst planning out your strategy, right? Maybe he will get bored and move along, back down to the cellar where he belongs.

Nope.  I left him there for about an hour.  He hadn't budged.  I tried yelling at him, making lots of noise in the near vicinity in the hopes the sound would scare him away.  No dice.

I don't have any more of the Spray of Death.  Shit!  I haven't had any problems with the wasps lately, and I honestly never expected to have to defend the bathroom from another giant spider -- at least not so soon.  I hadn't resupplied on Death Spray.

Time to grab a shoe.

But the creepy thing is in a weird spot.  I need a shoe that is not only going to protect my hand from coming into contact with the spider, but that can bend and flex in weird spaces.  The Sneaker of Victory is not the right tool for the job.

Thank goodness for Crocs!

Yeah, I said it.  I have Crocs, and I love them.  I may love them now more than I ever did before.  Let's just take a moment to consider the finer points of Crocs:

1) They are comfy when you have to be on your feet for several hours every day.
2) They are soft and flexible enough to fit into weird spaces when you need to squash the shit out of a spider.
3) They are totally waterproof.

If nothing else, I think we can all agree that they were the perfect implement to bring to my current battle.

I lined up my shot carefully, trying not to attract the attention of my foe.  I pulled the trigger and slammed the Croc down at that sucker.

I missed!  Well, I may have stunned him a bit, but the toe hit the faucet and spared him most of the pain.  That thing was so fast, scurrying to the left before coming to a halt.

Oohhhh, he is definitely in cahoots with the previous giant spider!  It has the same super-speed the last one displayed when trying to outrun the Spray of Death.  This thing has got to be a friend or relative, come to bring bloody vengeance upon my person on behalf of his fallen comrade.

I struck again!  I think I may have taken out a leg, but the thing was too fast.

This spider has serious ninja moves.  It vanished!  It just fucking vanished!  How is that even possible?!

I did a quick check on the bottom of the Croc.  Had I actually hit it and just thought I missed?  Nope.  No spider body to be seen.  Oh God, is it crawling up the shoe somewhere and headed for my arm?  No.  No, we are okay and spider free.

Where the hell did it go?

It's not in the web, which is pretty much destroyed at this point after being mangled by my shoe.  It's not in the drain, waiting to be sent to a watery grave.  WTF.

Where did the freaking spider go?  No way I can take a shower without knowing where this thing has gone.  It could be anywhere, just waiting to attack!

And then I saw it.  And I couldn't believe it.  It stuck its creepy spider head out from behind the left edge of this:

Behold!  The spider sanctuary!

I don't even know how it is possible, but the spider managed to get in behind that thing.  It's probably got a name, but it's the flippy lever you use to open and close the drain.  It also happens to be screwed tight against the tub.  

How is it even possible for the ninja-spider to have squeezed its way behind there? I still don't know. It's the middle of the night, and my brain cannot fathom how it managed to make itself small enough to get in there.  

It never came out again, either.  It's a smart ninja-spider.

Am I supposed to take a shower with ninja-spider lurking around? I don't really have a choice.

Hey, Crocs are waterproof, right?  I'll just bring my shoe into the shower with me! Fucker pops out again he is going to die.

You know what's not relaxing, Friends?  Trying to take a shower when you are afraid to turn your back on the faucets.  Or close your eyes while washing your hair.  Any moment the ninja-spider could pounce.  Have to be ready so he doesn't get the drop on me.

He didn't come out at all during my shower....as far as I know.  I'm secretly hoping that the hot water pipes created some sort of Hell on Earth and took him out for me. That would be nice, and it's what I am going to tell myself if he fails to reappear before I try to get some sleep.

My new shower buddy

I'm leaving the Croc in the shower.  It needs to dry after it took a shower, and partly because I am hoping it will scare the ninja-spider.  

I'm also shutting the bathroom door.  

Who am I kidding?  I'm not going to get any sleep tonight.  I don't know if ninja-spider is dead or hiding.  I'm going to be nervous and twitchy, sure that every slight movement of the sheets is ninja-spider creeping on me.

I really hate spiders.

Spiders: I Hate Them.

WARNING:  If you hate spiders as much as I do, you might not want to read this.  I'm also sharing a scary spider picture which you might not want to see, especially if you plan on sleeping any time soon.  There are also going to be a few expletives along the way as I tend to have a bit of a potty mouth when freaking out.  If that is going to upset your delicate sensibilities then do us both a favor and look away.  You've been warned.

I hate spiders.

I cannot state that clearly enough.  I. HATE. SPIDERS.

Let me fill you in on the backstory so you can truly understand why I flipped out so badly before work this morning.

I was a naive little child, and for many years thought spiders were some sort of "outdoor" bug, much like butterflies and inchworms, and they would never be found in the house.  I didn't have a problem with them.  They did their thing outside, made pretty webs, and lived their happy little spider lives.  Spiders were nice, helpful creatures like in Charlotte's Web.

One night I woke up to find a spider creeping along on the pillow next to me, about 3 inches from my face.  Spiders and I had a bit of a falling out after that.  Not only would they dare to come in the house, into my bedroom, but I was pretty sure it was going to try to crawl on my face.  Not cool.

Not too terribly long after that first traumatizing discovery, I learned my next spider life lesson:  they will not only violate the sanctity of your home, they will lay their eggs in it.  How did I learn this? Why, hundreds of tiny baby spiders were crawling all over my bedroom ceiling.  My parents got them exterminated, of course, but the damage was done.  For years -- literally -- I could not go to sleep without checking for spiders.  I would lie in bed and study every inch of each ceiling tile for any signs of movement.  Even a dusty cobweb was enough to keep me from sleep until it was annihilated.  If I lost my place while scanning?  Nothing to do but start over again.

And then there was my darling brother.

I honestly don't remember its origin now, but he somehow managed to acquire a large, rubbery, jiggly, fake spider.  Why my parents ever thought letting him have possession of such an object was a good idea is beyond me.

Friends, do you have any siblings?  I hope so, because you will totally understand this next part.

For months (although it seems like years in retrospect), he would ambush me each night with that damn rubber spider.  It was that special form of love and torture known only to siblings.

One night I would go to flip on the lights in my room, and the giant spider would fall off of the switch and onto my hand.

The next night it might be balanced precariously -- just in the right spot -- on top of the bedroom door so it would fall on my head.

The next?  It might be between the sheets in my bed, waiting to attack my feet as I slipped under the covers.  Underneath the pillow was also a popular spot.

Some nights it wouldn't be there at all, leaving me to wonder where the fucking thing was and when I was going to get ambushed by it.

He got me every. single. time.

I would scream bloody murder, and he would start laughing his ass off, running for the safety of his room.  I, of course, would chase him threatening imminent pain.  My parents would break up the chaos before any bodily injuries took place, and tell him not to do it again.  Like that was going to happen.  He was having way too much fun to just stop.  I also got the classic advice, "Just ignore it, and he'll get bored and stop.  You know he's going to try and get you, and when you don't react it won't be fun anymore."  Sure!  I'll just ignore the giant phobia attacking my person -- that will be easy!

So now, maybe, you understand why I hate spiders as much as I do.

This morning I was in the bathroom making a last attempt to tame my hair against the humidity before leaving for work.  Out of my peripheral vision I noticed some sort of movement in the bathtub. I figured something must have tipped over, or maybe Jazz-kitty was behind me and had flung her toy-of-the-moment into the tub.  I looked into the tub to see what was going on, and I saw this giant spider crawling the rest of the way out of the drain.

Beast From Hell.  Fuel For Nightmares.

Holy shit!  OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod.

It was probably about 3 inches long, and that fucker was moving fast!

How the hell did that even fit in my drain?  What if it was in there when I was showering?  It could have attacked my toes!  WHAT IF IT HAS FRIENDS?!

I seriously considered calling my parents, to see if my father would come over to my house and kill it for me.  Yeah.  That's the next-level type of "I fucking hate spiders" I'm dealing with, people.  Sadly, it would not surprise my parents in the slightest to receive such a phone call.  

No.  I realized I couldn't do that. 

A) That would be seriously pathetic on my part,

B) That thing could wander off to parts unknown before backup arrived, and

C) I could not leave for work knowing that thing was creeping in my house, winding up who knows where.

It had to die.

My preferred method of spider killing is to have someone else do it.  I do not want to get remotely close enough that it could in any way touch me, or jump onto me.  That option was out, as I live alone.  Next best method:  smash the shit out of it with a shoe -- an enclosed shoe (sneakers or boots are best) that I can stick my hand inside for extra protection from the spider. This thing, though, was way too big and too fast for the shoe method.  

I was somehow going to have to handicap it first -- take it out at the knees, so to speak.  No way was I getting within striking distance until I was sure it wasn't going to be able to strike back. How was I going to do that?  I scanned the bathroom.  Hair spray?  Sunscreen?  No.  That might just piss it off, and I don't need a giant pissed off spider in the bathroom, out for my blood.

And then I had an epiphany.

You might not be a wasp or hornet, but I bet this stuff will bring the pain -- from far, far away.

Truthfully, I have never been more delighted that I have wasps that occasionally think it would be a good idea to set up shop along the back of the porch.  

Before I put my plan into motion, I took the above picture of the spider.  If things went bad and it bit me I wanted a photo to show the hospital staff.  Yeah.  I was going into this battle giving us 50-50 odds on winning.

I snuck back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible so as not to alert my foe.  Honestly, I considered leaving the door open for a quick escape route, but I didn't want the fumes from the Spray of Death to get into the rest of the house.

There it was, chilling in the corner of the tub.  I seized the moment and sprayed the hell out of it. Take that, creepy ass spider!

It took off -- pissed off and running toward the other end of the tub.  I sprayed that creature for about three minutes, chasing it back and forth around the tub without it seeming to be bothered in the slightest by the foamy Spray of Death raining down upon it.

And then came the moment when I ran out of Death Spray.  I knew there hadn't been much left in the can, but I thought it would have been enough.

Shit.  

Now I've got a foamy, pissed off, fast giant spider in the tub.  What if this stuff just made it stronger in its spider-fury and awakened its blood-lust?

There was a tense stand-off as it headed back toward the shower drain, not going to lie.  Thankfully, the Spray of Death had kind of puddled there a bit.  My nemesis ran into the puddle, and then he slowly began to collapse.  Ha.  Ha!  Who's smarter now, giant spider?  You just ran into a Puddle of Doom!

I wasn't taking any chances though.  No way was I going to assume it was near dead.  It might just be gathering its reserves of strength for an assault.  It was still moving, dragging itself around.

Time for the Sneaker of Victory to make an appearance.

I beat the crap out of the thing.  No way was it coming out of that tub alive.  If there was even the slightest visible twitch, I hit it again.  

Eventually, there was stillness.  Also, I was kind of hacking up a lung from being in the fumes of the Spray of Death at that point.

I gathered far more toilet paper than was remotely necessary, and removed my foe from the field of battle.  He might be dead, but I am not letting his spidery body or guts come in contact with my person.  

Just to make abso-fucking-lutely sure that it would not make some miraculous recovery, I flushed it down the toilet.  I flushed multiple times to speed it on its way.  Burial at sea for you! (Well, probably more like Burial-in-the-sewage-treatment-plant, but that sounds nowhere near as poetic.)

My mission accomplished, I cracked open the bathroom window to release the Spray of Death from the room, but I still closed the door.  I don't need the cats getting sick from the fumes, and if that thing somehow managed to survive and climb back up the plumbing it was not going to be given easy passage into the rest of my house.

This epic battle probably took all of about 10 minutes.  I don't even know that my two cats realized that a life-and-death struggle was taking place beyond the bathroom door.  Did I panic and freak out?  Obviously.  But I won!  

In your face, spiders!  Now maybe you will stay outdoors, or in the cellar where you belong.  (I ceded most cellar rights to the spiders when I bought the house.  I keep nothing down there.  We worked out a deal:  I will only go down there if I need to do something with the furnace and/or the hot water heater, and in return they will not enter any other parts of the house or they die. Violators will most definitely be punished.) 

After that, I left for work.  I honestly didn't care what my hair looked like at that point, no way was I going back into that bathroom right away.

Yeah.  I really hate spiders.