Of Spiders and Damsels in Distress

Dear Man of Mystery,

I really could have used your assistance last night when I encountered a ginormous spider in a bedroom. It was trying to be sneaky and hide in the shadow on the edge of the carpet and hug the baseboard. Alas, it was no match for my eagle eye, which is always on the paranoid lookout for creepy crawlies (yet another reason why I dislike summer--apparently, bugs like air conditioning, too). Maybe I should just marry an Orkin Man. I hear they bring in the big bucks.

At any rate, I occasionally have moments of bravery where I can kill things, so I took the chance that this might be one of those windows of grace where God decides to help me control the pest population. I grabbed a shoe, and sure enough, it was on the move almost immediately. I guess his spidey senses told him death was hovering with his ominous, black hood and wielding his sickle of justice. I have a piece of flair on Facebook for good reason that says, "I'm paranoid because the spider I just saw five seconds ago isn't there anymore."

Sure enough, the little cretin outsmarted me by wiggling his way into a rather large crack in the wall of the neighboring bathroom. It didn't even move that fast. I totally could've gotten it, but I froze and decided to yell instead. So much for bravery.

I'll admit, I then stared at a crack in the wall for a good 20 minutes during most of the length of the 10:00 newscast being broadcast from the living room. Thus, I waited simultaneously sitting on the edge of the bathtub with a big, clompy shoe on one foot while being informed on current events. Then, somewhere during the sports report, I got a genius idea. Hark! A large, orange spray bottle sat on the bathroom vanity! I could still see where the spider was in the crack of the wall by the floor. Perhaps if I just sprayed the crack, it would coax the little demon out and I could clobber it with my shoe!

I filled up the bottle and tested it out. The water jet was like a lazar and not all fanned out like some spray bottles, and the distance it could shoot was impressive. I therefore could keep my distance from the beast. Sure enough, with one squirt, the spider zipped out into the open, froze in place, and *whomp* it was reduced to a greasy spot on my shoe. Victory!!

By no means does this mean you're not needed, dear future husband. I could have gotten back those precious 20 minutes of life if you had swooped in and killed the darn thing in the first place. I mean, men love to feel needed and like they can fix and rescue things, right? Well, I can't imagine anything more heroic than saving a gal from something with fangs and eight legs. Ok, so I can think of a few more things that are more heroic, but this would be a good place to start. I hear Kohls is having a sale on capes. Don't bother on the spandex.