Unwanted Guest

I shouldn't even call it a guest. It's an invader. An enemy. A vile being. And it's definitely unwanted.

I was doing my motherly duties of getting juice out of the downstairs freezer before bed last night. Landon had been begging for juice all evening but after a bout of unnecessary dirty and odorous diapers, I thought it best to hold off on the juice and encourage more liquids such as water thus reducing the scented and running ingredients that had frequented his diapers through out day. I knew by morning, juice would be okay and was preparing ahead of time.

I was going about my normal routine that I go through every time I go downstairs. All the lights get turned on and each step that I must step on is thoroughly scrutinized. I carefully eye any suspicious spot on the floor and remain on the lookout for any sudden movements. I arrived at the freezer unharmed (and unarmed) when I saw a flash of white.

Yes, white. Out of the corner of my eye, it was dashing wildly on the wall as if someone was flashing a flash light beam from across the room. I froze. Afraid was I to look upon my oppressor because I knew I would be thoroughly oppressed upon seeing the wicked invader.

My eyes turned and looked. My spine tingled. My brain immediately recognized the specie and sent a message to my feet to run fast. All my guards showed up for duty and my adrenaline was fully activated. I knew all 300,000 feet of the invader would soon be heading in my direction but at the time, I couldn't tell it from head to tail. And with the way it was dashing wildly about, I don't think it could tell either.

I slammed the freezer shut and retreated towards the safety of the stairs, forgetting the errand I was sent on that sent me to this dungeon of a basement.

When I got to the steps, it dawned on me that the freezer was not fully shut because in my haste to close it, I had slammed it instead which had only resulted in briefly closing it thus the seal hadn't totally activated. I could do nothing else but move my body back towards the wicked being on the wall and come within close range of it again. All 300,000 feet could conveniently march in my direction. And the defense I had was only my adrenaline. I didn't even have my feet shod.

I lunged 10 feet across the room while keeping my feet planted at the stairway so as to have a quick way of escape should the invader suddenly grow long arms and sharp teeth as we all know these kinds of things do.

The freezer door looked like it was touching the freezer and I deemed it safe enough to leave till morning. I mistakenly neglected to fully determine that it was more than just "touching" and actually closed. My safety was more important to me than all the food in my freezer.

I whipped back to the stairs, dashed up the stairs 6 steps at a time the whole time imagining long, spindly creatures crawling between the stairs and around my toes, up my legs, then following my spine straight into my hair. I knew they would at least snatch a toe or two. I actually arrived to the kitchen in one piece. I counted all my fingers and toes and was amazed to find even my hair in place. I knew the monster would be after me before long because of the vulnerable state I was in: my Provider and Protector was up in bed reading a book. I couldn't be safe until I was with him. Book or no book.

I don't even remember going up the stairs or how I got to our room but before I knew it, I was at his side shaking and jittering while breathlessly gasping out my horrific experience; expecting his condolences and sympathies as only a wife naturally does when she has a loving and caring husband.

(This is the part that gets really scary.)

He rolled his eyes, hardly even looking at me. So much for thinking I'd at least get a reassuring pat on my back that everything would be okay. He was completely unconcerned with the fragile state of mind I was in; my emotions completely reflecting a victim on the brink of a nervous break down.

And then he mumbled something like, "they don't hurt anything..."

DON'T HURT ANYTHING??!! All 300,000 legs would do more damage on my body by just coming within 5 feet of me than the horse's hoof that hit me in the shin when I was a kid. Don't hurt anything??!!

I animated how looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong the beast was by holding up two fingers. My dear husband just rolled over and went to sleep.

And then I remembered: I am married to the man who for months has been talking about getting a tarantula spider the size of a dinner plate to keep in his office and whom he can feed innocent lizards to. I've told him instead to buy the lizards and we'll cut up the spider and feed it to the reptiles. We could even keep the lizards in the kitchen for all I care but please, not a "pet" spider that we knowingly allow to live in our home.

"But it would be good for the kids to have a spider," this husband of mine says.

"It's better for the kids to have all their fingers than an exotic spider with big teeth," I wisely retort.

"I'll keep it in the office and clean it's cage," is the response I get. Like I'm worried about a dirty spider cage.

"I'll never ever step foot in your office with an eight legged beast living comfortably on your desk," was my well thought out response. He even offered to build the cage, as if that would make a difference.

After I slid in bed last night, I assured him we would call the exterminator and eliminate the centipede epidemic that was sure to sweep through our house. If there's one bug I can't stand, it's a centipede. The one I saw last night was white, long, hairy and fast. I've always been terrified of them since I was a child but until last night actually haven't seen one for at least fifteen years. I was beginning to think they were just a childhood fantasy fear that was only a figment of my imagination. Now I know they're real.

I decided not to call the exterminator until Toby's spider arrives in the mail and I'll give detailed directions of what areas in our house that need extermination. That way, we'll get the most for our money and we can all live in peace and harmony.

And, I'm NEVER, EVER going to the basement again. At least not until the nice exterminator guy comes. If he never comes, there will be at least two rooms I will be banished from: the office and the basement. I hate spiders and centipedes... all 300,008 legs of them. Of course, that leg total would only be one centipede and one spider but I can't imagine having more legs than that running around my house. I'm sure there's more than just one of each in this civilized house of ours because they say if you see one, it's a sure sign that there's a whole community of them. You'd think we lived in a mud hut with a grass roof.

At least our tarantula would be in a cage and wouldn't have any wives or relatives. The cage would help cut down on his population. Maybe Toby's cage isn't such a bad idea after all. I'd rather eliminate the need for the cage in the first place. But, if I have to have a spider in the house, I'd rather he was in a cage. The centipedes too.