Story time.
Last night I came home after a late evening dinner out with my brother. As usual, I opened my front door, called out to Alexa to turn on the kitchen light, then walked into the kitchen to set something down on the table. As I did, I could not help but notice out of the corner of my eye a large dark form on the living room floor. It's a spider, and it is easily the largest one I have seen in my home in
years--his leg span is more than 3" wide, and by the coloring I surmise he is not the typical 'house spider' breed I typically encounter but rather something different. At this point, I realized I had two options:
- kill him immediately
- walk back out the front door, toss in a lit match, and burn down the entire house just to be sure
I decided to try option #1. I went to the other end of the kitchen where the fly swatter is, grabbed it, and started heading back toward Mr Eight Legs. Before I got to him, I stopped and came up with what, in hindsight, turned out to be an extremely stupid idea.
Why not have a little fun with this? Instead of simply swatting him, I'll let the robot vacuum run him over! I headed back to the front room, grabbed the remote for the vacuum, fired it up, and used the directional controls to have it head right for him. The vacuum dock is only about 8 or 9 feet away from him, so this only took a few seconds. But as soon as the vacuum hopped onto the living room carpet from the kitchen linoleum, ol' Mr Eight quickly figured out what was happening... and he pulled a faster disappearing act than Ferdinand Marcos. I'm not kidding--this little dude must have had a pair of afterburners strapped to his torso, and he engaged warp drive across my floor and--because it was directly away from the vacuum--headed straight toward my couch. Not under there! I quickly leapt over the vacuum in hot pursuit, swatter in hand and ready to strike, but the damn thing beat me there and disappeared underneath.
Well,
great. Now look what I've done. I had the golden opportunity with him sitting out in the open, and I threw it away with my stupid idea. I let the vacuum run around the perimeter of the couch while I watched carefully for him to run out, but no such luck--he was in his war bunker, he knew it was offering him safety, and he wasn't about to give that up. I ordered the vacuum to return to its dock, and I sat down at a kitchen chair to devise a new plan. Maybe I would have to go with option #2 after all.
After more thought, I decided I needed to follow through with option #1 while I still knew where he was. There was no way I could leave, or go to bed, etc and allow him to change location and thus gain tactical superiority over me. Speaking of tactical superiority, why not shift the odds in my favor? If he wasn't going to willingly leave his bunker, why not take the bunker away from him? If I moved the coffee table just a bit, I'd have enough space to tip the entire couch forward 90 degrees. Sounds like a good plan, so I began to prepare by moving the table and also moving all loose items (magazines, remote controls, etc) off the couch onto the table as well. Soon I was ready to go.
I decided it would be helpful to know exactly where he was before I tipped the couch. After all, if he was near one end it would be safer for me to tip the couch from the other end. There was an LED flashlight sitting on the kitchen table, so I grabbed that and turned it on. At first, I just bent over a bit and illuminated the first couple inches under the edge (thankfully, this couch does not have a sham hanging down; instead, there is a ~3" gap between the bottom of the sides and the floor). Well, of
course he wasn't at the edge--duh. So now I actually got down on my hands and knees, put the side of my head on the floor, and started sweeping the light beam underneath. There were some dust bunnies--uniformly dark gray in color, of course--but about a third of the way in (right next to a black steel support structure that rests on the floor) from the middle of the darkness I saw two tiny yet very obvious glittery shines reflecting light back at me. I also saw large legs on both sides of this glitter. Ho-Lee Shit, the sunofabitch was staring back at me. As I sat there locked into this Mexican standoff, it dawned on me that
one of us was--in this very moment--literally staring Death right in the face. It was up to me to decide which one of us that was. Time to put my plan into motion.
I jumped up and put the flashlight back on the table. But then it hit me: what if moving the couch makes him bolt? With the couch on its nose, he wouldn't be able to move too far toward it since there would be no gap to crawl under, but would he go left or right? I realized I would want to maintain my tactical edge and see exactly where he goes, but there was a good chance I would not be able to do this because the couch would block a significant portion of my view. I couldn't afford to take that chance.
I decided I needed an assistant. Because she is the only family member home (next door) right now, I called my 20-yr-old niece. I purposely did not divulge many details; I only said I needed a hand. She quickly appeared at my back door (which happens to be in the very same family room, and is undoubtedly how Senor Ocho also let himself into my home). I armed her with one fly swatter, grabbed another for myself, and told her to stand at one end of the couch while I tipped it from the other. Whoever he ran toward was responsible for killing him. With that, I tipped the couch...
...and, nothing. Amazingly, he didn't budge an inch--he just stood there staring at my niece. "Wow, he
is big!" she said, and then she told me to get him. Okay, fine. I moved forward and took one strike. He began moving just as I swung, causing me to miss. Worse, he ran straight toward the nose of the couch, this being the one place we couldn't get another shot at him.
My game was evolving. I quickly told my niece to back up, and I tipped the couch back to its normal position. Again, this exposed our little friend and now Eryn took two swings at him as he was off and running again. This time he darted under neath the coffee table. "Okay," I said, "I'm gonna pull the table this way (away from the kitchen). You be ready to swing when he is exposed." There was only enough room to move the table 3 or 4 feet in that direction, but I went as far as I could. Eryn never took another swing. "He's still under there," she said. Okay, time to reverse direction. "Now I'm gonna pull this way (toward the kitchen), and I'm gonna
keep pulling until you can get him. Make this one count." This time I yanked the table as fast as I could, and I kept pulling even after she started swinging like mad just to make sure the little f---er didn't run back underneath it. It took 2 or 3 successful hits, but
finally he stopped moving. Sheesh.
The things you have to do to protect your home.