Spider Update

Well, the spider has left the building. It was a rather unpleasant ordeal, though, I'll tell you what. See, I hate hating the spiders, but it's really the sheer size - nay, enormity of this particular spider. It's like saying you like dogs. But when a strange Great Dane starts wandering toward you with a funny look in his eyes, you worry. All I wanted in the world was for this spider to leave my bedroom, preferably through the large door that opens into my backyard. Unfortunately, the spider didn't know what I was trying to encourage him to do. He wanted to flee to the darkness and comfort of my closet. This was so not kosher with me.

I tried to encourage the spider out with a piece of paper. But he scuttled across the paper toward my hand and it made (I kid you not) the sound that Stewie makes on Family Guy when he runs away. That gave me shudders that put me out of commission for a good five minutes. Then I tried to gently nudge him out with the force of the blow dryer. He just curled up. All the while, I was whining, "Don't make me kill you! I really don't want to! Just GO... OUTSIDE!!" Then I remembered something about hairspray killing spiders. So I doused him. Again, he just curled up and smelled like girl. Then I thought, "Wait, does that only work when you make the mini-blowtorch with a match and hairspray?" I actually considered using a makeshift blowtorch. I reconsidered.

I decided to better understand my enemy. I looked him up, all the while reminding myself that nothing in New Zealand is poisonous or dangerous. This spider is a tunnelweb, meaning he makes a tunnel made of web (go figure) and lives under rocks and logs. So, with my newfound knowledge, I constructed a tunnel out of tissues and an old toilet paper roll, surrounded with plastic bag (I don't wanna touch the freak). This contraption worked only after I summoned up a huge amount of courage and a piece of cardboard to shove the poor guy into my tunnel thing. Then, he scuttled around the bottom of the bag (not in my tunnel -- so inappreciative) touching me. I, dignified and mature, cried, "Ew ew ew ew ew! I can feel him!" and tossed the whole works into the far reaches of my garden. Then I slammed and locked the door.

I showed him.