I’ve probably been making more use of the random post feature on the right than anyone lately. It’s been interesting to read about the things I found blogworthy back in the day, and I’ve been reading a few back entries at random most every day. While in this little Wayback Machine, I noticed two strongly recurring themes: illness and spider-killing.
And wouldn’t you know it, I have both to tell you about today. On the illness front, I would like to say that I took a sick day last week after spending the weekend unable to breathe, went to the doctor, and after waiting for two solid hours to be worked in was told I hadn’t been sick long enough and I should get a neti pot. And that it was probably just allergies. Okay fine. I’m so glad I spent $400 on allergy testing last month (AFTER insurance), followed by a monthly cost of $80 for two new allergy prescriptions and an asthma prescription, so that you could tell me that it’s probably just allergies and I need a damn neti pot.
When I’ve just spent $500 in a single month on medical treatment for something, I think we’ve passed the point where we get to flippantly call it “just allergies.” Plus, this wasn’t my regular doctor, and I don’t trust dudes under 70 who wear bow ties daily as a matter of course. Note to self: no more work-ins with bow-tied doctors. PS – It has now been 13 days and my head still feels like it’s full of mud, and I still can’t breathe through my nose consistently. OH WAIT I’LL JUST GO GET A NETI POT.
This morning when I dragged my ass downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast, I was greeted by a large black spider sitting on the stove top. It was one of those shiny menacing-looking ones that is probably completely harmless, but is all like “step off, bitches, I JUST MIGHT BE A BLACK WIDOW.” Like I’m going to flip it over to check.
It looked like the cats had already gotten to the spider, as it was curled up and two of its legs looked weird. They’re pretty good about torturing things to death, so I stood there and looked at the giant carcass and thought about how I would get it to the trash.
And then I blew on it to make sure it was dead. And then the carcass started to crawl, though lopsidedly, since it did appear to have two messed-up legs.
I stood there for a second all OMG OMG OMG and the cats were nowhere to be seen, of course, so I had to come up with another way to get rid of the spider. So I dove under the kitchen sink and got the spider-killing spray and hosed that mofo down with it.
Because what you really want to do to a food-preparation area capable of very high temperatures is douse it with toxic chemicals.
Side note: the spider-killing spray is emblazoned with a very giant, very realistic picture of a spider, and though I logically know it isn’t real, when I’m holding the can I try not to look at or touch the part with the spider picture on it.
So anyway, yeah, I hosed down my stovetop and its inhabitant with highly toxic chemicals, so of course that’s when the cats wanted to come investigate. I shooed them away and while I was doing so, I noticed that Robo-Spider was dragging itself toward the edge of the chemical spill. Yep. Still not dead.
Plan B: Smash with shoe.
I went in the other room and grabbed a flip-flop, and came back to deliver the killing blow. And I am a wuss, because my killing blow also failed to kill Robo-Spider. That bitch kept on army-crawling through the chemical spill, though partly squashed and a little more slowly than before.
It was clear that I’d have to be a little more decisive. So I got a bunch of paper towels and made a wad that, hopefully, would not have any gaps in it and would be thick enough to keep me from feeling the spider. And then I got a few more paper towels and wrapped them around the wad. And then I struck.
And I both felt and heard a serious CRUNCH. So I maybe screamed a little, because EW OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG THIS IS WHY I KILL BUGS WITH PHONE BOOKS.
I peeked. Robo-Spider was finally dead, and its guts were everywhere. EW. So I threw the wad in the trash, and I’d like to say I went about my business, except that I’ve been quite convinced that every stray hair or dust particle or puff of air is another Robo-Spider that is going to crawl on me and eat my flesh.
Is there irony in the fact that I used non-toxic, people-friendly, panda-friendly Method wipes to clean up the remaining harsh chemicals and spider remains?