no kill spider zone
I have no qualms about killing bugs. Flies, gnats, roaches, creepy-crawlies of most varieties. I was the passenger in my friend Melissa Greenwald’s car one day when a bug landed on her dash. Unconsciously and mid-sentence my hand flew down with a killer blow. She laughed about how Southern I was and put on an accent and mocked me. It was pretty funny.
And there was one morning at work when someone spotted a roach in the hallway. Everyone was scared (!!!). They called for my help so I rounded the corner and saw it down the hall. Jay was throwing paper plates at it with results that you can imagine were less than satisfactory. “Excuse me, Jay, let me take care of this,” I said taking off my sandal. One swift slam and we scooped up the ex-roach with one of the paper plates and tossed it in the garbage.
Spiders, however, command my respect and I won’t kill them. When I see them in my apartment I say “Hello there, Mr. Spider, what’s shakin? Where’s yer web? Thank you for eating my bugs.” We’ve had so many sightings recently of the same spider that I am considering naming him. Last week I opened the curtain after my shower and saw him hanging less than a foot away from my face. I blew on him a little hoping he’d move up or down, but he was stubborn. Since I needed to use the room I got a piece of tissue for him to climb on and placed him on the floor behind the toilet.
Next day Chris and I saw him on the wall in the living room. Last night he was spotted on the floor under the coffee table. I followed him around on my hands and knees for a bit trying to get him to climb on my hand. Chris told me to be careful because he might bite, but I don’t believe that. We’re taking good care of him - why would he bite me? But he wouldn’t crawl on my hand, either, so I directed him to crawl under the TV stand. I certainly don’t want anyone to accidentally step on him.