<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Jen. She’s a wife, mother, photographer, spunky, brutally honest, and like everyone else, still trying to figure out what all of those labels mean. I only have one more thing left to say … HIT IT JEN!!! !!</editorsnote>
#TalkNerdyToMeLover’s Jen Swedhin
After getting out of the shower this morning, I saw a small-ish creepy brown spider trying to get out of the sink. Instinct kicked in and I turned on the water and started rinsing him down. He fought it hard, and my empathy kicked in. “You’re right, that was rude, I’m sorry.” I literally said that out loud as I turned off the water.
As a side note, those of you that know me know that I don’t kill spiders. I don’t kill bugs in general, except mosquitoes and flies. I relocate. I’m not scared of bugs or creepy crawlies. Usually.
I watched him struggle against the wet porcelain for a few seconds. I decided to throw him a lifeline. Without thinking I grabbed a Q tip and stuck it in front of him to help transport him to somewhere dry. He immediately darted up towards my hand at the speed of light, so fast that I did a spider spaz and threw the entire rig on the floor.
Staring down in pity at his crumpled and twitching body, I felt an inkling of guilt. “Listen man, I want to help you out.” Yeah, I was talking to a tiny spider, and not feeling weird about it at all. “Here’s what I need from you. You eat these flies. All of them. In return I’ll let you live. One more thing, I don’t want you scaring the poops out of me when I come in here in the morning. Actually, I don’t want you scaring the poops out of me anytime of day.”
He seemed to take the deal, so I went on with my moisturizing routine. Which really just means lotion, it just sounds nicer. I turned around and there he was, heading towards me, dragging a leg that must have been broken during the spider spaz toss. He stopped in the exact place I stand to dry my hair. He worked on fixing his leg. For what seemed like hours. He fixed it. And fixed it. And eventually I got tired of waiting. I even asked him to move, reminding him of our deal, and that I had hair to dry and lashes to curl. And still he stayed.
Again, without thinking, I grabbed a Q tip to give him a little prod. The speedy bastard ran up the Q tip and gave me a full sized heart attack. Again. Then he jumped straight up at my face, getting a solid foot of air. Twice. He pushed through the pain of the broken leg and ran in big circles all over the bathroom floor at speeds I wasn’t aware were allowed in a tiny bathroom dwelling spider. While I sat cowering in the corner being pissed that a spider actually scared me, he ran and hid under a pair of underwear. I pulled myself together and finished the morning routine.
Spider, you are on probation. Scare the poops out of me again and I will be terminating our arrangement. I mean, really, I was quite clear on my expectations. Turning into a speedy jumping spider was totally unnecessary.