Let me begin by stating that I am very fond of spiders. When they are NOT inside my house. They eat other nasty bugs. They are very interesting looking. They spin silky little (and big) webs which look amazing when the morning sun catches them all glittering with dew.
However, when I sit down to type a post, and distract myself for a few moments at first to look at the jobs postings on craigslist, I do not expect to see a rather large…well…not terribly small spider crawling across my desk right in front of my keyboard. As I scramble to move my water bottle and phone and the sticky note with names of blog styles on it, I then realize that said spider is not actually on top of my desk, but is rather UNDER the glass top upon which all these other various goods are resting.
I should say that my desk is one of the creamy flecked plastic folding table which I bought for my classroom when I took the chair desk combos out so students were not so physically jailed in the space. This table is one that my spouse used while I was teaching in China to pile things upon and occasionally use the printer. He is the one who put the sheet of tempered glass that he got from the glass repair shop on top of the table. The glass is raised up by little slices of foam which keep it from sliding about.
These little slices of foam also apparently provide a lovely little spider speedway under the glass. Since the spouse is responsible for the glass placement, I think it is only fair that my shriek as the spider disappeared under the printer roused him from bed. (Since I had just tucked him and the puppy in moments before coming to the office, I did not feel too terrible about getting him out from under the covers.)
When the husband joined me, what followed were multiple attempts to convince the spider to join us out in the world. Since we couldn’t reach said spider, the spouse tried tapping. I tried using a sheet of paper to swoosh him out. As we moved more and more items from the desktop so we could see the spider’s sly scuttling, it became clear that we were not destined to be spider wranglers.
When the spider finally returned to the side of the desk from which I had lifted the printer, the spouse slid the glass back far enough that we could capture the spider. Only in this case, capture means flatten like a pancake rolled over by a semi-truck. While I am generally of the, “Let’s put the poor spider outside,” frame of mind, in this case I was oddly satisfied when the spouse smushed him.
I know this is a terrible thing to admit, but when the spouse said, “We should have filmed that!” I actually agreed. Frankly, I think we were highly laughable in our attempts to herd the spider. I am not normally one of those, “Let’s film every moment of our lives and pretend any of it matters,” sort of folks, but I am pretty sure that at some moment of the great spider hunt, there was at least one moment worth sharing.
Still, I am grateful that neither of us picked up a phone and started filming. It is rather comforting to know that when I am in the process of making a fool of myself, at least in my own home, I can be comforted to know that my silliness will not be shared with the entire internet. At least not in the form of a fuzzy video full of shrieks and much laughter.
As to the poor spider, if you were a transmigrating soul, I am so sorry you were squished. I’m feeling pretty much like a half squashed bug myself these days, so I should know better.
I’m just someone trying to figure out how to juggle ten acres, work, a mama with stage four cancer, and a whole lot of grumpy. This blog started out as “Grumpy Gal’s Guide to Gratitude,” but since all I really keep typing about is the garden, I figured I might as well own it! So, thanks for joining me as I try and figure out how the heck to kick myself in the booty and get on with life.