There was a spider in my apartment this morning.

I’ve made great leaps and strides in dealing with my stark terror – ever since the Webcam War of ’03 (normally there would be a link here, but my archives are still broken), I’ve been able to grudgingly look at pictures of spiders without running screaming into the night. They still make me jump and shy away, but I no longer shriek and throw the book/monitor across the room, or make Ed cover the offending picture with Pokémon so I can continue reading the rest of the magazine.

See, progress.

The amazing progress I’ve made, however, does not translate into comfort around REAL spiders.

As I was getting ready for work this morning, I saw a spider on the floor. It was small by most standards, but still far too large for my own comfort – it was about the size of a dime, and it was dense. It wasn’t a wispy spider; it was big and dense and evil and black to a level I am not wholly comfortable with in regards to spiders.

I froze.

Then I called for backup.

Unfortunately, Ed had long since left for work and I was on my own. Undaunted by the lack of manly help forthcoming, I called out for the cats to come save me. The cats were unsympathetic and not rushing to my rescue, so I cast about for something else to save me.

Unable to tear my eyes away from the spider lest it attack while my attention was diverted, I reached out for the closest thing I could find that would double as a weapon. I grasped the first thing at hand and lofted it at the spider: a cat toy shaped like a sock. I would not die without a fight!

My aim was off. I steeled myself, and tried again; this time with a catnip-filled sheep. It, too, soared over the spider – but by mere millimeters. I let out a manly, capable squeal and made to run to safety should the spider charge towards me, but .. nothing.

The spider did not move.

Perhaps it was a stupid spider. Maybe it was stuffed full of evil spider testosterone and wouldn’t let something as silly as a scared girl end his mission of terror. Maybe it was trying to fake me out. Maybe it was a TRAP!

I know a little something about traps – I live next door to Admiral Ackbar. This was definitely a trap, and as soon as I let down my guard the spider would grow to the size of a horse and kill me with acid dripping from razor sharp fangs and stomp me to goo with eight hairy legs. Damn you, spider! Curse you all to hell!

Now I was pissed. You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and ask me to do murder for money, crawl on my floors, scare me into making a mess of the cat toy box? This is not justice!

I threw another toy at the spider. This time, my aim was true – I hit the evil thing right on its evil spider head. That’ll show it who’s the boss, and it ain’t Tony Danza.

Still the spider did not move.

Could it be that my nemesis was already dead? I still feared a trap, but I inched closer (in that I stood within 8 feet of it).

Nothing.

I decided to look at this from another angle. I went through the kitchen and came out on the other side of the spider – you can never be too careful – and looked at it again from afar.

Nothing.

I got closer. There was no sign of movement.

Hey, look! It’s Cheddar! She peeped out a greeting, and sat there looking cute. Sure, she wouldn’t come to my rescue in my hour of need, but now she wanted attention and love. Oh, I’ll give her love, alright. I pet the cat in all her favourite areas, squishing her belly and rubbing her ears.

Then I picked her up and tossed her at the spider.

It wasn’t so much of a toss as it was a drop – we were dangerously close to the inert beast, and I needed to find out once and for all if my enemy was truly dead. My proximity to the fiend paid off in spades – my Cheddar Grenade was a direct hit.

SQUISH

She landed on the spider, then chirped in delight and came running back for more. Past her happy waddle I could see what was left of my enemy – a crumpled spider, sad and forlorn (but still dripping with evil) and clearly dead. I gave Cheddar some extra love, and hastily got ready for work. Sure, the spider might LOOK dead, but it could still be a trap – best let Ed deal with it when he gets home.

I don’t like spiders.