And there it was. A huge, black spider with its legs all drawn up ready to pounce in my hair.
It was sitting on top of my black skirt, which was hanging on the back of the bedroom door, conscious of the power it had in keeping me captive in my own bedroom! All it had to do was move one leg, one spindly leg and I would quiver asking for my mum under my breath. Yes, I do still cry out for my mum when I’m scared. Don’t you?
The worst part is, I only noticed it once I had got my hand right up next to it as I went to take the skirt off the door to iron it. Bang! my eye somehow registered the slight difference in shade, texture and 3D shape of something sitting on a flat surface. Boom! my eyes zoomed in and all my senses came alive. Argggh! I jumped back in fright and landed on the side of the bed…
A shadow of my former self, curling up trying to make myself as small as possible so as not to attract the spider’s attention, just in case it decided to have some fun and jump at me. Ridiculous I know, but there I sat deathly still, eyes narrowed suspiciously, praying, praying, praying that it wouldn’t move; that is was asleep and friendly, that it hadn’t been sent to me by all the others spiders I had put a hit out on over the years.
So there I curled, figuring out my options. It was 11pm; the kids’ bedrooms were opposite mine so I couldn’t scream or they would wake up, which would mean a roar from Afro Baby, her climbing on top of the cot and perching precariously whilst clinging on to the doorframe with one hand and the other outstretched shouting “Mama, Mama, want mummy’s bed, want mummy’s bed!” I knew that if I screamed she’d wake and I wouldn’t be able to get out of my bedroom in case the spider jumped in my hair!
So the first option was out.
Hmmmm. I’ll kill it. What with? A shoe, erm, what if I bent down and it jumped on me. What if I missed it and it jumped on me hissing… oh god! Option two is even worse than option one.
Option three! I’ll call my husband, oh! Where’s my mobile phone…Noooooo! It’s downstairs! Option three – out!
So there I sat, thinking about those stories about spiders laying eggs in your ears, spiders crawling in your mouth when you’re asleep, spiders biting you, spiders teasing you by blocking your exit. Then, I spotted my iPad. Right! Time to get some sympathy and some other options from my spider-hating friends.
With eyes at three o’clock (one eye on the spider and the other on Facebook), I updated my status outlining my situation. “Please help, trapped in my bedroom, blocked by huge, mummy eating, hairy, jumping spider”…OK, slight exaggeration. “Please help, trapped in room by big, black spider, can’t scream, no mobile phone to call husband.”
A few comments arrived calling me a wuss, reminding me that it’s spider vengeance, that I should kill it, so on and so on. Then my hero arrived and offered to call my husband and tell him I was being held captive in our bedroom and could he come up and get rid of a spider.
Brilliant! Social Media was MADE for this situation!
Husband came up with a shoe, I jumped on the bed and said don’t kill it (only because I still believe at 36 that more spiders come back if you kill one). Husband missed spider with shoe, it wriggled, I screamed, Afro Baby woke up, little leg looped over the cot side, she balanced precariously, husband found the spider, killed it and I put Afro Baby in the big bed for a snuggle.