About two years ago, I decided that I was finally ready for commitment again. I was tired of the temporary life, unanchored. Of knowing that when I went home, it was what was I was going home to for now, but not forever.
After betrayal and hardship and sleepless nights, I was finally ready to try again.
I bought a house.
The idea behind this house was that I was going to make for myself a permanent home, at least as much as anything can ever be called permanent. What ended up happening instead was two years of nowhere at all to live, as the house was completely gutted and rebuilt. But that’s a story for another day.
Today’s story is about spiders.
The part of the United States in which I live is mercifully free of many of the horrible crawling things that can crawl on your face while you’re sleeping and I have to stop writing anymore of this sentence because I won’t be able to sleep tonight.
But we have our share of giant house spiders. If you haven’t seen them, feel free to Google. I’ll wait. I’m not going to Google them with you because even photos are horrifying and Google so helpfully shows you a million all on one page.
In any case, they’re huge. And black. And horrible. And giant. And spiders. And they come into your house.
My house is still mid-construction, but a couple of months ago, I moved in just enough things so I could live here (bed, laptop, internet connection). About a month after that, the first shower was finished. You can imagine how exciting it is to have a shower available to you at any time, night or day. Super luxurious. Like I’m a princess.
About a week ago, I brought my things into the bathroom, reached in and turned on the water, took off all of my clothes, and stepped in. I think it’s important for this next part to understand that I was naked.
I glanced to my right and sitting on the shower curtain, right at boob level, completely defying gravity, was a horrifyingly huge, giant house spider.
Obviously, this was one of the worst things that had ever happened to me.
First, I screamed. Then I slowly stepped out of the shower, being very very careful not to disturb the curtain and send the spider flying right at my face.
And then I was standing naked outside the shower, silhouette of the spider mocking me.
I considered walking away, barricading the door shut, and never showering again, but I knew that wouldn’t be enough. I’d never be able to sleep in the house again, knowing that thing was out there, waiting for me.
I hit the curtain, hoping to knock him onto the tub floor so I could smash him, but all that did was cause him to scuttle around to the outside of the curtain, closer to me. Then he ran up to the curtain rod and stared at me.
Give that round to the huge, horrifying spider.
I grabbed the hand shower (still on full blast) and burned that motherfucker down. By which I mean, I got the entire bathroom soaking wet.
The spider was undeterred. He just scurried around with his smug spider face and his horror movie spider tentacles.
Until one joyous moment, when he finally lost grip and was hurdled through space down the drain.
I left the shower on full blast and went upstairs to fall apart.
Could I ever shower again? I had to, right? Eventually? But if I didn’t do it now, I may never do it. So I forced myself back downstairs, thoroughly inspected every inch of the bathroom for hidden spider danger, then stepped back into the place of horror.
I kept a vigilant eye on the drain, but the spider was not able to power past the thundering water.
I faced the danger and I overcame it.
The end, right? Fluke thing? Spider gone? Showers of luxury and princessness have returned?
For the next few days, every time I took a shower, my process was the same. Look under the rug, behind the toilet, in every fold of the curtain. Under the shampoo bottles. Get a clean towel and shake it out to reveal any spiders lying in wait.
And everything was always fine.
Until one day, I went through the steps, the same as the days before, took off my clothes, stepped in the shower. AND SAW ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKING SPIDER ON THE CURTAIN.
It was slightly smaller than the first, so the first one wasn’t back for revenge after clawing his way, tentacle after tentacle, up the drain. But goddammit.
I washed him right down the drain, managed to make myself stay in the shower, and did not turn my back on the drain the entire time. Which made it a little difficult to wash my hair, but who needs clean hair, really, when it comes at the price of a secondary revenge spider jumping out of drain at you while you’re not looking.
So, anyway. Now I have to move.