It was several years ago when the hubs left for a business trip. Truth be told, I never enjoyed it when he left on trips. I don’t imagine I ever will. This time, I was so sad. Without him there to do all the little things that guys do, how was I to fend for myself? Plus….I sorta love the guy. A lot.
He was in California. Compton, to be exact. You don’t know this, but my husband = the whitest guy I know (almost). At least visually. So the thought of him in Compton sorta cracked me up.
But I digress.
He was away. I was on my way to work on the first day without him for the week. I head out to get in my car and I notice there are weird spider webs on the car door and near the door lock. I brush them away with my purse and key, and get in my car. (**Side note. I freakin’ HATE spiders. Actually, I hate all insects. They freak me out. I’m itching just thinking about them. Ugh….)
So there I am, driving. I’m driving west, so the sun is behind me. I have my radio up, and life is good. I turn the corner, onto a busy street, facing south now and I see it. And by it, I mean them. Hundreds of thin threads of silk spun from every corner of my windshield onto the dashboard. Instantly, I am losing. my. mind. This is the most horrifying thing I can imagine. I’m scratching and basically driving from as far back in my seat as I can be. I’d drive from the backseat, if I could. I’m *freaking out* in a way that you can’t imagine. Except, I am driving about 40 miles an hour in rush hour traffic. I can’t afford to crash my car into a fiery blaze, or I would. So I haul ass to get to work.
I jump out. There are literally HUNDREDS of webs. But I can’t see any spider. I begin to think, Okay. Maybe it was there and then crawled out. So I go inside to work and grab the duster and Lysol and I bomb the fuck out of my car. Dusting and spraying like I am trying to fog this damn thing straight out of my car. Feeling satisfied, and now out of an entire can of disinfectant, I go inside and work my day’s work.
That night, I had plans to meet my girlfriends for a movie. I open my car door and look in, like I expect the damn bug to be sitting in the passenger seat. It’s not there. I sigh and climb in, knowing that I don’t have an out. The hubs, who isn’t afraid of anything, would gladly have scoured my car to quell my fears by now. In a panic, I call him. I tell him the story.
Him: So… you know it’s probably still in there, right?
Me: What in the hell are you talking about? I sprayed everything with Lysol.
Him: And? He probably crawled inside the dash. (I’m agitated because now he is giving this disgusting arachnid personal characteristics. “He?” How does he know it’s a “he”?)
Me: (whining) Aaaaaaahhhhhhh…. you’re not helping.
Him: What do you want me to do?
Me: I want you to tell me it’s gone and that I’m worried for nothing so I can drive to this damn movie and go on with my life.
Him: (clearly pacifying me) It’s nothing. He’s gone. You’re worried for no reason. Go on with your life.
Me: (sighing) Sheesh… was that so hard?
I go on to tell him that I miss and love him, blah blah blah.
I drive for about 45 minutes to the theater, thinking constantly about this bug and how it’s probably still with me. But trying to be a big girl and get over the whole stupid thing.
I am incredibly itchy. And every time my hair moves or my skirt brushes my leg or the fabric of my shirt adjusts I quickly brush my skin, all the while, telling myself that I am crazy and overreacting.
I have dinner. I see the movie. I’m headed home. No traffic now, and I’m blazing down the highway toward my house and I feel this tickle across my legs. I am trying to be nonchalant about it. But I feel it again. I brush my legs. There it is, again. And again. Finally, I can’t stop myself and I look down in just enough time to see it. This enormous hairy spider building a new life near my feet. (**Side note, it wasn’t that big. Actually, it was a tiny green spider that I saw running around my ankle.)
Nonetheless, I almost wrap my car around a light post. I brush my ankle and make a new course for the most well-lit location I can get to. That night, it was a gas station. I am not even at a complete stop before I hop out of the car and dance around like my clothes are on fire. I’m literally having a mental break next to Pump 4. It’s probably 9pm and the clerk is inside looking at me like he isn’t sure if this is some sort of mental illness ritual or if he needs to notify the authorities. I’m not sure, either, at this point. If he would’ve asked, I would have demanded a fire truck and possibly hazmat. He doesn’t ask. Probably better for all involved.
I am staring at my phone in the passenger seat. I need to call my husband. What am I going to do? I get on my knees (yes, I am still dressed professionally from work), and peer into the darkness to see if I can see it. I spend about 15 minutes looking. I go around to the other side of the car and open the door, half-expecting it to jump onto my face and bite me and my skin to begin decomposing. Seriously. I’m freaking out. I do this same on-my-knees inspection. I see nothing. I grab my phone and quickly slam the door to prevent Mr. Spider from coming out of its clever hiding spot to kill me. I know my husband will laugh at me, so I call the next best person: my daddy.
This is why I love my daddy. He’s already in bed, but listens, and calmly instructs me to get into my car and drive home (which is 5 blocks away). He will leave a can of bug spray out on his balcony for me (he lives next door), and I can spray my car and that will take care of it.
I take a deep breath and jump in my car and take off. I get home, jump out of the car and, lights on and everything, run to my daddy’s balcony to get the spray. This time, it’s no holds barred. I am spraying every surface of this vehicle like I’m washing it with Raid. I throw the can into the car, slam the door, lock it and run into my house where I proceed to strip out of every fiber of clothing on my way to the shower and spend an inordinate amount of time scrubbing my entire body. I wonder if I shouldn’t be spraying raid on my legs, too.
The next day, nothing. He’s either gone, or dead. But, after that little experience, I’ve never had a web or a bug inside my car. There must be legends in the spider world about this woman and a can of Raid.
The moral of the story?
#1 – I can survive a few days without the hubs.
B) Spiders have no chance against me.
And lastly…Start with Raid and you’ll never have a problem again.