Wednesday, Oct. 20, 2004
10:59 p.m.

"Mom! It's a giant spider!"

That was Everett, already freaked out.

It was big, too, bigger than any others that have turned up in this place yet. Usually I put a glass over them, slide a flat piece of cardboard underneath, carry them outside and release them. This one, though, was on the brick behind the woodstove; not a flat enough surface to close it into the glass should it try to escape. I might break its leg while doing it, even.

I can't crush them. It's not that I'm so kind or merciful, it's that the thought of their squished bodies grosses me out. It literally sends tremors along my spine. I can't bring myself to do it.

Scott phoned, and I told him my sad tale of woe as Everett squealed in the background.

"Suck it up with the vacuum cleaner," he suggested. I sent Everett to bring the central vac hose, but he was too afraid to approach the spider, which was as large, legs included, as the palm of my hand. It was up to me to be the heroine.

I plugged in the vacuum hose and stretched it out, reaching far above my head, so that the suction opening was next to the creature. The hose did not suck the spider up. I had the weebie-jeebies, and could not bring myself to be more aggressive. The thing was large enough to jump the 14 inches between itself and my hand on the hose, and that thought terrified me.

I whined like a little girlie and wished Scott was a few hundred miles closer than Saskatchewan at the other end of the phone line. I begged. Couldn't he hop into his truck and drive through two provinces to be here in 20 minutes and save us? Surely I could not leave this leggy beast free in the house all night, but I wasn't able to vanquish it like an adult should, either. Sheesh. I was a massive, hulking enemy compared to this insect, and I was afraid of it. How silly is that.

There was no choice. I was reduced to calling my upstairs neighbour on the phone. His wife answered.

"I hope you weren't in bed," I said. "Andries isn't afraid of spiders, is he?"

"No," she answered, sounding a little worried herself. "Do you need him to come down and kill one?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll tell him now."

And so it was that Andries came though the connecting door of our adjoining suites, carrying a golf club. "Is it a three-iron job?" he asked, laughing.

He had a bit of a challenge, killing it. It fought back, I swear. But in the end, Andries won.

I still feel bad about having the spider killed, but ... it was too large; I couldn't convince myself to relax and forget about it. Poor thing, it was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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