Maybe I should just get up and do some work. That way, if I can’t sleep, I’ll have a head start for tomorrow, even if I get up in the afternoon. My sleep has always been pretty messed up, which is one of the reasons I’m self-employed.
I force myself to try and go to sleep for a few more minutes, but when it still does not work, I reach over in agitation to the nightstand and grab my phone. I turn it on, nearly blinding myself with the bright light of the screen. Rolling onto my side, I consider dimming the screen and finishing the e-book I started on the deck tonight. It was pretty good. Not stellar, but entertaining.
When I am finally able to glance at the screen again without my eyes pouring a river of tears at the blinding light, I realize the wall by my bed is lit up.
And there, only a few inches in front of my face, is a giant, black, hairy, malicious, bastard of a spider.
“Holy shit!” I launch my phone at the wall and leap out of bed on instinct. My hands fly all over the place, swatting at myself like the spider might have had a mate and was planning to do some fine dining on yours truly while I was sleeping—a freaking spider date. Maybe they were going to bring their spider babies out too and make it a family dinner.
“Argh!” I swat harder at myself and start leaping around the room frantically.
I finally fly over to the other side of the room towards the light. Along the way, I manage to bang my shin, hard, on the dresser. Cursing, I clutch my leg and hop on the other until I finally get to the switch. The room lights up, and the evil spider, which is about the size of my fist—and I might just be eyeballing it here and not exaggerating at alllllll—is still there on the wall, eyeing me up like it owns the place.
“Oh, hell no. I’m not getting back into bed if that’s what you’re thinking.”
The spider stares back at me. I imagine it lifting one hairy leg and shaking it at me and barking spidery commands. I shudder when I think about that thing getting in bed with me. It might think it’s romantic, but I definitely do not.
“You could never seduce me. I’m sorry. I just don’t find you attractive. Does that hurt your feelings?”
It doesn’t move one inch.
“I could get you something to eat. I have some ground beef in the fridge. Or maybe I could move you to the garden?”
I realize how crazy it is that I’m standing here having a conversation with a spider. I think fast and decide that trapping the bastard is my best chance. I can’t just get a shoe and do it in. It’ll splatter all over the wall, and the wall is white. I can’t handle cleaning up spider guts and goo with a cloth and then looking over and thinking about the final moment of splatter and squish. No. Heck no. I can’t do it.
I turn and run down the hall, down the stairs, and straight into the kitchen. I don’t have an empty jar, so I settle on two large glasses. If I can put one over the spider, maybe it’ll crawl in, and then I can use the other glass to trap it by putting the mouths up against each other. I’ll carry it down and set the glasses in the back yard. They’ll fall away from each other, and it can just crawl on out and go about his lovely little spider life.
Despite my resolution, by the time I make it back to the bedroom, I’m shivering, and not because it’s cold. The spider is still there in the same spot, taunting me. I shiver harder. The glasses in my hands start to vibrate.
“You think you’re so smart, daring me to capture you. If I come near you, you have to promise not to spring at me. If you touch me, I know I’ll die, and let me tell you, my death throes will be violent. I’ll kill you too, so you better behave.”
I imagine the spider laughing at me with its spidery little laugh. In my head, it sounds a little bit like an old lady cackle. The scary kind from fairy tales before the evil old biddy gets up to no good.
I edge closer. The spider doesn’t move. “Are you actually going to cooperate? Please cooperate. Please. Please. Please don’t leap at me.”
The spider still doesn’t move. It stays there, a big black blot on the white wall. I nearly lose my courage completely when I think about how close it got to me. When I was in the kitchen, it could have moved off the wall and hidden in my bed. Now that would have been a disaster.