What is it with old houses and spiders?
It’s like they emit this homing beacon to all arachnids; it’s one of the great, unsolved mysteries of our universe. Hence, my ongoing battle with Charlotte.
In this ancient cottage, I have to make use of every available inch of space. Thus, oddly sized bowls and serving dishes are stored in quasi-neat stacks above my cabinets. (I did say quasi, didn’t I?) At any rate, every time I go to pull down a mixing bowl – and I do mean EVERY TIME – I am greeted by Charlotte’s web having been rebuilt in the corner above the dishes…a somewhat untidy scattering of her most recent fruit-fly soufflés littering the bowls below. Yay.
Charlotte is what Americans would call a “Daddy Long Legs” – super spindly, a little tan pincushion with legs so fine you can about see through them, but I KNOW she is smirking at me underneath that miniscule cluster of eyes! Last week, I swear I saw “I’M COMPLETELY AWESOME!” spelled out in web. Complete with exclamation point.
Spotting my nemesis, it is only natural to take a swat at her. I swipe, miss completely, and in the process nearly send myself flying off the stepstool into the knife block. Actually, Hubby has always claimed I am likely to die in some freakishly weird way. I am probably the only person you’ll ever meet who nearly severed her radial artery filling the peanut feeder for her birds. Hence, he keeps the life insurance paid up and is well versed in the double indemnity clause. Oh, he wants to keep me around. But he has seen one too many weird accidents to take any chances.
And honestly, accidental “death by spider” should probably involve a bite somewhere, don’t you think?
Charlotte dodged my tea towel and dropped behind the cabinet, AGAIN, where she is currently redrawing plans for a new and better web. I expect construction to begin the instant I leave the room.
This is our dance: I swipe, she hides, I leave the room, she rebuilds, I discover, I swipe…and so on.
Frankly, I think she is enjoying our little game, but ultimately, she knows she is safe. Especially since she has an uncle, cousin or nephew in practically every other corner of the house. I am surrounded by the arachnid mafia. While I do not expect a horse head in my bed any day soon, I do keep a pretty wary eye on her cousin Harry, currently residing in a corner of my bathroom. Uncle Barry has a spun a web mansion in the dining room, and cousin Larry is sizing me up from inside the coal hod. They are watching…always watching…
feature photo: Shutterstock
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