At this time every year I get the S.H.I.T.S
Now, before you start reading let me just put you straight – this is not a post about bowel movements. It is not a post about toilet habits, nor is it a post that ‘Dr’ Gillian McKeith would be remotely interested in.
This is a post about our house and the invasion that occurs every year. By beasts. Mahoosive, scuttley, black, speedy, nasty, creepy beasts. I am of course talking about the 8 legged menace House Spider (Jeeeez it’s hard to even type that word!). Male or female, all I know is that they rock up, waltz in and assume that they can live here. Well NEWSFLASH you little creeps – You Can’t! Now beat it!
Since my childhood my Mum has always dealt with these invaders. I was shooed from the room whilst Mum fetched one of Dad’s boots and ….well, let’s say bashed the hell out of them. This was fine as I never had to deal with them. Until I went to Uni. Then I had to toughen up. But I found that having been out of the room when Mum had dealt with them, it was nearly impossible for me now, a grown adult, to cross back over the room threshold after I had left to get kitchen roll or some kind of removal device. Plus, if I left the room then the little fekker might hide – then I could literally NEVER go back in the room, traumatised in the knowledge that it was lurking in there….somewhere . The thought of not knowing where it had retreated to terrified me. I would much rather be stuck in the room watching it, intensely, whilst calling for a housemate to assist me.
On one occasion in my student flat there was one crawling around the edge of my sunflower mirror (I was a teenager in the 90’s give me a break!) I backed out of the room, my back pressed against my cupboard and without taking my eyes off it got my flat mate up; Rugby player, sports student, student union security – you get the picture, a big tough guy. Having woken him he grudgingly came to my aid making digs all the time at how wimpy I was and why could I not handle a spider. Then he saw it – ‘I’m not going anywhere near that’ he yelled!! Now, I had debated for what seemed like an eternity, which flat mate guy to wake and I’d chosen this one because I thought he would be the one least likely to rib me for this incident the following morning. His exclamation obviously woke my other house mate – also, male, rugby player, sports student, union security. Luckily, due to the wuss-ness of flatmate numero uno flat mate mark 2 honed in on this side of the situation and not my initial need to get rid of a spider. I was left unscathed whilst numero uno had to put up with weeks of spider jokes! Thankfully mark 2 house bud scooped the webby blighter into an old Chinese takeaway tub and disposed of it on the otherside of the road from our flat. Yes. I insisted he walk outside, cross the road and deposit the critter as far away as he would take it, given that it was about 1am. Thanks mark 2! Love you for ever!
So, bang up to date now and being a mother and very often dealing with these things in the dead of night (bloody typical isn’t it!) because Hubs is on a night shift I have developed my own unique and highly effective way of dealing with these….creatures.
I have a well chosen shoe of Hubs’ on the landing – it has been selected for its smooth sole – nothing worse than scraping spider guts out of a shoe with deep treads! I also have a selection of sprays on hand – hairspray of the strongest variety, Raid, Febreeze and even Hubs’ deodorant! In the time since I have become the woman of the house – just over 14 years now since we bought our first little flat, I have developed the necessary skills to cope. Oooh, I feel I’ve come across all Liam Neeson!
This mainly involves me psyching myself up. And this is where the S.H.I.T.S come into play.
These quite simply, are the
My language becomes foul!
When the Twins are around it takes every fibre in my body not to let a bluey slip and I have developed the knack to substitute certain words. So far I have managed to keep their ears innocent. But by gum it takes some doing! Not only do I now have to focus on a) where the beast is, and b) what implement I have to use but also c) the words I am using to summon my courage. (Now I just have an image of He-Man in my head!) When I’m alone I have no qualms! I’d put a sailor to shame!
(Only with less glitter and lightning and considerably looser abs!)
I would have thought by now that the Spider community would have heard rumours of this mad woman and that the warnings would be shockingly stark. Surely mother spids are telling their babies never to go near the house of ‘that lady’, surely by now I am the Halloween story used to scare baby spids into good behaviour. I mean come on! This is the woman who after a dose of raid, a good stamp, a hurl of abusive obscenities and even uses a chopstick to finish it off when it hides betwixt carpet and skirting board!
Now, I would just like to point out, that I am not proud of this side of me. I would give anything to be able to calmly collect the beastie up and escort it outside whilst having a little giggle with it about what a silly sausage it has been, but I just can’t do it. I have tried all manner of beast catchers and removers but they don’t work for me. Especially when the bastard decides to run up the bloody pole of the removing device, right towards my hand. Nu-uh! Not happening.
So unless I have a miraculous shift in personality or bump into Derren Brown, then I’m sorry but the lady’s not for turning!
Our house is full with 478 conkers this year, yet I know that I will still see a spider breezily sitting atop of one offering up a cheeky wink! I know that despite the carpet spray I have covered the house with they will still enter.
I just pray to God that I don’t have the experience that my dear friend Charlie’s Mum had…seeing two of the fekkers bumping uglies on top of her kitchen worktop.
That my friend would be the final straw and I would have only one option left…
The Aloha Mummy
(genuine wildlife lover – just not ‘them’ in my house.)