Kill Them All!!!
Jul. 6th, 2006 09:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eimarraWe all have things we feel strongly about. For me, one of those things is creatures with too many legs running around inside my house.
Last night, I'm sitting in bed, jotting down my to-do list (which included such things as "take out trash" because I was laboring under the impression that today was Friday) when I notice a tiny spider dangling from my bedside lamp. I squish it between thumb and forefinger and go back to writing. I reach over to grab my cup of water and notice a couple more crawling on a piece of paper. Squish. Back to what I was doing. Then there's another one, dangling from the other lamp.
Dread fills me. I look up at the ceiling and see many, many tiny creatures crawling over my head. I get up (taking my water and to-do list with me) and go downstairs, where my husband is still puttering on his computer.
"I'm sleeping on one of the couches tonight," I announce. "There are like a bajillion spiders on the ceiling in our bedroom."
He looks up at me, slightly skeptical. "A bajillion?"
We have a pre-K kid. It's a perfectly normal expression.
"Okay, maybe I indulged in a bit of hyperbole. But dozens, anyway."
He gets up to come see. Looks at the ceiling. "Yeah, an egg sac definitely hatched."
He agrees that sleeping on the bed is probably a bad idea. "You said they were dropping. There are probably some in the sheets."
Eek. I did not need to hear that. He also has no idea how to exterminate them. I do: Scrubbing Bubbles.
Him: "Won't that take off the paint?"
Me: "Cheap paint, yeah, but not this stuff."
He doesn't look like he believes me, so I drop it for the time being. We adjourn to separate couches. (I have a bit of a crick in my neck this morning, but at least I'm reasonably certain I wasn't sharing my sleeping arrangements with nefarious octopedal creatures.)
This morning, I strip the bed and toss everything that will fit into the washer. Then I test the Scrubbing Bubbles on the paint in my closet. No damage. Mwah-hah-hah. I spray ceiling and walls with great abandon, anywhere I see a small moving object. I clean off nightstand except for a stack of books, just to make sure no spiders are trying to hide. (Sure, Flylady says I shouldn't have the books on my nightstand, but she thinks I shouldn't have a bookcase in the bedroom, either. We clearly have differing priorities in life.)
I think they're all dead, but the Scrubbing Bubbles are handy if I should spot any more.
Now maybe I should think about getting some paying work done today.
Last night, I'm sitting in bed, jotting down my to-do list (which included such things as "take out trash" because I was laboring under the impression that today was Friday) when I notice a tiny spider dangling from my bedside lamp. I squish it between thumb and forefinger and go back to writing. I reach over to grab my cup of water and notice a couple more crawling on a piece of paper. Squish. Back to what I was doing. Then there's another one, dangling from the other lamp.
Dread fills me. I look up at the ceiling and see many, many tiny creatures crawling over my head. I get up (taking my water and to-do list with me) and go downstairs, where my husband is still puttering on his computer.
"I'm sleeping on one of the couches tonight," I announce. "There are like a bajillion spiders on the ceiling in our bedroom."
He looks up at me, slightly skeptical. "A bajillion?"
We have a pre-K kid. It's a perfectly normal expression.
"Okay, maybe I indulged in a bit of hyperbole. But dozens, anyway."
He gets up to come see. Looks at the ceiling. "Yeah, an egg sac definitely hatched."
He agrees that sleeping on the bed is probably a bad idea. "You said they were dropping. There are probably some in the sheets."
Eek. I did not need to hear that. He also has no idea how to exterminate them. I do: Scrubbing Bubbles.
Him: "Won't that take off the paint?"
Me: "Cheap paint, yeah, but not this stuff."
He doesn't look like he believes me, so I drop it for the time being. We adjourn to separate couches. (I have a bit of a crick in my neck this morning, but at least I'm reasonably certain I wasn't sharing my sleeping arrangements with nefarious octopedal creatures.)
This morning, I strip the bed and toss everything that will fit into the washer. Then I test the Scrubbing Bubbles on the paint in my closet. No damage. Mwah-hah-hah. I spray ceiling and walls with great abandon, anywhere I see a small moving object. I clean off nightstand except for a stack of books, just to make sure no spiders are trying to hide. (Sure, Flylady says I shouldn't have the books on my nightstand, but she thinks I shouldn't have a bookcase in the bedroom, either. We clearly have differing priorities in life.)
I think they're all dead, but the Scrubbing Bubbles are handy if I should spot any more.
Now maybe I should think about getting some paying work done today.
