Okay so I was going to bring you more of The D.C. Chronicles, but something has arisen that cannot be ignored.
THIS. FREAKING. SPIDER.
See that little, unassuming speck in the corner of the bathtub? That is a heart-attack inducing, immortal, fiendish speck of hell-ash that is INDESTRUCTIBLE.
When I find a spider in the bath–which is often, because our basement, which I live in, is actually a spider’s nest–I 100% always wash it down the drain.
Occasionally, I feel slightly bad about it, but you know what? Then stuff like THIS LITTLE JERK happen, and I no longer feel remorse about my string of spider homicides.
Because, that spider? Up there? I washed him down the drain. Should be stellar, right? I take a 40-minute shower, revelling in the warm water, only vaguely worrying about spider-revenge.
See, every time I wash a spider down the drain immediately before showering, I’m always vaguely worried that it will crawl back out of the drain and exact its arachnid revenge on me for trying to kill it.
But I always manage to mostly dismiss this fear, because there’s a constant stream of water going down the drain while I shower, so, even if it does somehow manage to not get all the way washed away, it has to drown, right?
WELL, APPARENTLY, MY FEAR IS TOTALLY RATIONAL AND WELL-FOUNDED.
Because, as I was wrapping my hair in a towel, I watched THE. FREAKING. SPIDER. CRAWL. BACK. OUT. OF. THE. DRAIN.
THIS LITTLE DEMON SURVIVED A 40-MINUTE CASCADE OF WATER AND CLIMBED BACK OUT OF THE SHOWER DRAIN.
How? How is this even possible?
I washed it down the drain again, amidst much panicked muttering and the occasional shriek as it scittered toward me.
You’d think it ends there, wouldn’t you? I certainly did. BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE. And not in a nice game show kind of way.
I wake up this morning to my alarm at 7:00 am. I stumble groggily to the bathroom, like you do when you first wake up. I flip on the light, and freeze.
Why? WHY DO I FREEZE?
BECAUSE THIS SAME IMMORTAL, UNGODLY SPIDER IS SITTING IN THE BATHROOM SINK. WAITING FOR ME.
I mean, obviously, I grabbed my phone and took a picture so I could write this blog post, but in times of panic, there must always be a solitary moment of clarity in order to take a picture for the blog.
My mouth open in a silent scream the entire time, I managed to wrangle this spider onto a piece of paper. I meant to tap the spider into the toilet, but it was crawling toward my hand and I was freaking out, so I threw the entire piece of paper in the toilet.
I grabbed the tweezers and fished the paper out (I’m not about to cause any sewage blocks, mkay), made sure the spider was prepared to meet its flushy-doom, and flushed the toilet.
Is it truly dead now? I don’t know.
But I have 100% checked the toilet thoroughly before sitting down every single time since this morning, because if that thing’s still alive, it is DEFINITELY coming to get me.
Now, I don’t want any of you lecturing me about how I shouldn’t be scared of spiders, okay, because facts mean nothing to me as far as fears are concerned. Also, the “you’re bigger than spiders” argument? Invalid.
-Elephants are bigger than mice and are afraid of them.
-I’m bigger than a grenade.
-I’m bigger than a King Cobra.
-I’m bigger than a Black Widow.
-I’m bigger than a bullet and any handgun.
-I’m bigger than most shot guns.
-I’m bigger than Chucky.
Have I sufficiently made my point? Okay, sweet.
Anyway, this was heavy on all-caps. But it definitely warranted it.
IT WOULDN’T DIE.