This morning, a large spider
revealed itself in my bedroom just long enough for me to reach for the designated
spider glass, then disappeared. Jeopardy.
I was looking in
the mirror at the time, as is my wont when my wife's at work. Whole days are spent gazing at my reflection, usually to the soundtrack of Joe Cocker's You Are
So Beautiful on loop. Everybody needs a hobby.
I was styling my hair when it homed into view. The second
I saw it, it froze. I've seen smaller fists. My two eyes met its eight and we sussed each other out. It was
a Mexican standoff with two participants. By which I mean ‘a duel’. Without
weapons. Shit analogy.
I had to work
quickly. I ran to the kitchen (where the glass is kept), picked up an old Doggett
& Ephgrave flyer to slide under it, and ran back to find an arachnid-shaped
hole where an arachnid once was. My eight-legged friend had vanished.
This was not what
I wanted. A huge creature was scuttling around the bedroom and I had no idea
where. It was liable to lie in wait until I slept and then creep into an orifice.
Hundreds of baby spiders would crawl out at a later date. I’d end up on the cover of Take a Break.
I needn’t have
worried. When I came home later to get
changed for Mostly Comedy I saw it shoot across the bedroom carpet. Glass
and card were grabbed in a trice. It was ejected from the property. I can now sleep soundly in my bed. Provided it was the same spider, that is.