I’m Never Showering Naked Again

May 1, 2012

in Mother Nature's A B****

If you haven’t read of my on-going battle with Mother Nature, you may want to take a minute and go here. And here. And here.

If you’re more of a Cliff Notes (Ie. What Twitter would be if it covered your English Lit assignments instead of my current chocolate cravings) kind of gal, here ya go:

  • I hate spiders.
  • I hate spiders with a passion equaled only by Mother Nature’s amusement at my hatred of spiders.
  • Mother Nature? Is a b**ch.

I would also say that I hate winter. Except my last two pregnancies have raised my internal temperature to somewhere between incubator and the ideal temperature for your Thanksgiving Turkey. And winter means I can actually turn off the AC. Most days.

What it also means? Is hibernation. AKA – Mother Nature’s self-imposed time-out.

And that, my friends, means that for 3-9 blessed months, there are NO spiders. If you added in a lake-side campfire, a singed s’more, and a wine cooler, it would be like paradise…

Or my shower.

Until yesterday.

A day which shall live in infamy.

I’d corralled a few blessed moments in the shower to wash off the last week’s dirt, grime, and bacon grease. As I contemplated wether or not today would be the day I would also squeeze in a quick leg shave for the month, I glanced up. All I wanted to see was what time it was. (Yes, there’s a clock in our bathroom. There’s a clock in every room. And they’re all 2-7minutes fast Welcome to life with the Big Man.)

But I couldn’t see the clock.

All I could see was the big, yellowish-whitish-ghoulish spider creeping across the ceiling over my head.

I’m Sorry. Were you not prepared to see that? At least you weren’t NAKED…?

In case you aren’t familiar with the crab spider, it’s the freakin’ chameleon of spiders. And rather than spinning its own little web to wait on patiently, it lies in wait. Waiting for its prey to come to it. AND THEN IT JUMPS IT.

According to the Internet, I shouldn’t be too worried about it’s venom. Which is nice to know. If you trust the Internet. It’s also got a Brooklyn Bridge it’ll sell you for dirt cheap.

The Internet also says its supposed to stay Outside. In Nature. On a Flower. So what it was doing in my bathroom? I have no idea. It certainly isn’t smelling like roses in here.

Not that I knew all of this as I cowered in my  shower, brandishing a vanilla-scented loofah in defense of my girly bits. All I knew was that there was a Spider in my Bathroom.

And I. Was. Naked.

Sadly, this is not the first time Mother Nature’s played this card. But usually its in the form of a small, tiny spider huddled up in a corner, counting a rosary with each tiny appendage as it prays my next re-enactment of Willow’s Whip It will spare it the deadly drenching it so richly deserves. The kind I’m not exactly sure is a spider rather than a speck of dust. At least until it blinks.

But this one? This one was playing in the big leagues. Huddling in a corner was for sissies. It? Was on a mission. Boldly crossing the ceiling directly above my sudsy locks, daring me to send even one tiny droplet in its direction.

And, honestly, I’d have been happy huddling in my own corner until it completed its journey and disappeared over the shower curtain. Except on the other side of that curtain? Was my son.

What? You thought I actually got to shower Alone? 

I’m not proud of it, but at that moment, I briefly considered retreating to that lovely, lovely corner and leaving the Little Man to fend for himself. He’s responsible for the destruction of more than a few books, door stoppers, and window sills. Surely he could handle one spider dropping down onto his sweet, unsuspecting head?

But then there’d be tears. And spider guts. And snot. And my shower would be for not.

And so, I acted.

Stupidly. Rashly. Foolishly.

But I acted.

Let’s just say, the spider and I BOTH ended up on the floor of the shower. Soaked. Quivering. And fighting mad. Fortunately for me, only one of us knew how to wield a shampoo bottle. And only one of us fit down the drain.

The other of us? Could use a hug.

And a towel. A very large towel.



Bahnie May 5, 2012 at 1:20 am

I can totally sympathize with this! I had a similar experience with a large roach while living with my grandparents during my student teaching days. Only I? Was on the toilet. And the roach? Was on the door jam. Right in front of me. The only weapon? Close the door hard and pray it works? And did it? NOPE! Needless to say I pottied FAST and was after a show even faster. My grandmother, hearing the slamming door wondered what happened. I told her and she said they occasionally have visitors like that. Great. Luckily (if I remember correctly) that was the only bathroom visitor I got. I just hope such an experience will never be repeated. Ever. :) Hang in there girl!!

Oma May 2, 2012 at 11:21 am

Dear Megie, I am sure that you know between animal and human, humans take showers once a day, not once a week. As far as the spider concern, it was just as good as the Reeperbahn!!!! I know you jumped out in a hurry, and that is what I did! I jumped out of Hamburg within 5 minutes when I saw that! The spider must still be dopey! Love, Oma

NSC May 2, 2012 at 8:55 am

You poor thing! Let me get you a glass of wine and some chocolate. And a clean outfit.

Deb & Alix DeLong May 1, 2012 at 6:58 pm

We are absolutely in hysterics! Soooooo funny (obviously not for you at that moment!). Great pic of your late intimate friend :)

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