When we arrive home from vacation we simply unload everything from the car and toss it all in one room. Bags, tents, sleeping bags--they all get tossed into a heap that is difficult to ignore, but we do it. We do it for about two days. The stinking, gritty pile will rest there, undisturbed, until we simply have to deal with it. However, this time, when we do, there is more waiting for us than the mere must of campfire clothes and sandy beach shoes.
Today my Superman and I attacked the pile of our camping gear. We dug through all the duffel bags and made piles of dirty clothes to be washed. Outside we knocked together sandy shoes and swept off camp chairs. We put remaining diapers, soap, and sunscreen in their rightful places. Then came the swim and towel bags. Little did I know, lingering inside my bright yellow tote, was a creepy, crawly spider. We are talking a big sucker, not just one of those lowly house spiders to be cleared up by the vacuum. It wasn't a monster tarantula either, not by a long shot. Big it was big, and leggy, and freaked the heck out of me.
I HATE spiders. Most of the time I can manage to kill them myself. I get the willies and a little bit itchy it the thought, but I can stomach it. Sometimes, especially outside, I get very vocal when surprised by the eight legged terrors. More often than not I will make a fool of myself while killing the beasts. I will grimace and look away at the last instant before squishing one in paper towel. I will frantically slap at it with a trusty flip flop and then quickly take the shoe outside to get rid of the offending spider squash on the bottom. However
this time I was so surprised, so grossed out things proceeded a bit differently.
When I first saw it I dropped the bag to the side and my eyes were huge saucers of surprise and terror. I then danced in place for about five seconds silently screeching "ew, ew, ew!" in my mind and wringing my hands. Then I just turned the bag on top of it and did a very psycho version of a Mexican hat dance all over it. Praying it was dead I quickly flipped the bag over and found it, squished but still looking very much like a spider, on the other side. Here I did more in place dancing and hand wringing. My mouth was permanently fixed in the lip curling grimace of being totally grossed out. I finally got Superman to clean it up with toilet paper and chuck it out.
Our efforts in unpacking revealed a few more, much smaller spiders that Superman graciously smooshed with toilet paper. Everything I picked up or turned over was thoroughly, yet hesitantly examined. Taking no chances after my first encounter, every furr-ball or dust clump met his doom at the swatting end of my flip flop. Yeesh! Needless to say this cleaning up and unpacking sessions did a number on my nerves and tired me right out! Now I'm itchy, jittery, and ready to fumigate the entire house. Get thee hence, spiders! I hate you!