All Missionaries Have Bug Stories
I am not afraid of spiders. Never really have been. I regard them as helpers in my personal war against mosquitoes and flies, both of which really annoy me. When I moved into this apartment, I noticed that it attracts spiders for some reason, and in the past six months, I’ve seen about one a week. In my appreciation for their work against far worse insects, I generously let them live. Unless they are right above my bed as I get ready to sleep. Then I feel that killing the spider is merely a matter of self-defense. (I once read this statistic that the average person swallows approximately seven spiders in their sleep during their lifetime. But here’s the thing: How can scientists possibly know that?!?)
Unfortunately, during my three weeks of vacation, the spiders have taken over the apartment. Brown, black, tiny, large, hairy—spiders of all types seem to have banded together in their coup d’etat (overthrow) of my home. I have taken to killing them just to prove my supremacy; after all, I am the one paying rent here! This process involves me thrusting my stiff-bristled broom at the spiders on the ceiling. Then I stab the broom repeatedly on the floor, just in case. I also “armor-up” by wearing heavy shoes, just in case they make a break for it.
Late last night, I was working in my office and needed something in the living room. I walked in, flipping on the light simultaneously, and then I froze. There were four spiders on the ceiling, but only one captured my attention: the one the size of a half-dollar that was hovering over my couch. It was so large and creepy I didn’t even want to walk under it to get what I needed. I decided I had to kill it for my own peace of mind (“there just ain’t room in this here town fer the both of us!”). So I put on my clunkiest shoes and grabbed the broom. Upon further reflection of his eight massive legs, I decided he could probably outrun me and my broom. I went and got my fly-swatter.
The problem was that the fly-swatter has a much shorter range. I had to stand on the ottoman just to reach the ceiling, and there was no way I was standing anywhere under that thing. I had to stand as far to the side as I could, which greatly diminished my aim. I flapped the fly-swatter and missed by a few inches to the right, so I smacked it again—and it disappeared! I swear one second it was there and the next second it was gone. I shuddered and threw the fly-swatter on the ground, in case it was clinging on for dear life. Then a far worse thought occurred to me, and with superhuman calm, I ran trembling hands through my hair. Thank God it wasn’t there, or I probably would’ve scared the neighbors with my screaming! I searched the ceiling and the floor and the couch, which is plaid and therefore, an ideal camoflage. I never could find the thing, until I finally gave up and went to bed, sure it would exact its revenge on me during the night. After all, I had probably enraged it.
Then this afternoon it found me, as it lurked just above the toilet in the bathroom. Happily, after a swift battle, he was flushed out of my life forever, and I haven’t seen another all day. However, tonight I did see a mosquito.
In other news: Both Beth and Ben believe I’d be better off blogging beaucoup. So these are the kinds of subjects you get if I haven’t got anything more inspirational!
Unfortunately, during my three weeks of vacation, the spiders have taken over the apartment. Brown, black, tiny, large, hairy—spiders of all types seem to have banded together in their coup d’etat (overthrow) of my home. I have taken to killing them just to prove my supremacy; after all, I am the one paying rent here! This process involves me thrusting my stiff-bristled broom at the spiders on the ceiling. Then I stab the broom repeatedly on the floor, just in case. I also “armor-up” by wearing heavy shoes, just in case they make a break for it.
Late last night, I was working in my office and needed something in the living room. I walked in, flipping on the light simultaneously, and then I froze. There were four spiders on the ceiling, but only one captured my attention: the one the size of a half-dollar that was hovering over my couch. It was so large and creepy I didn’t even want to walk under it to get what I needed. I decided I had to kill it for my own peace of mind (“there just ain’t room in this here town fer the both of us!”). So I put on my clunkiest shoes and grabbed the broom. Upon further reflection of his eight massive legs, I decided he could probably outrun me and my broom. I went and got my fly-swatter.
The problem was that the fly-swatter has a much shorter range. I had to stand on the ottoman just to reach the ceiling, and there was no way I was standing anywhere under that thing. I had to stand as far to the side as I could, which greatly diminished my aim. I flapped the fly-swatter and missed by a few inches to the right, so I smacked it again—and it disappeared! I swear one second it was there and the next second it was gone. I shuddered and threw the fly-swatter on the ground, in case it was clinging on for dear life. Then a far worse thought occurred to me, and with superhuman calm, I ran trembling hands through my hair. Thank God it wasn’t there, or I probably would’ve scared the neighbors with my screaming! I searched the ceiling and the floor and the couch, which is plaid and therefore, an ideal camoflage. I never could find the thing, until I finally gave up and went to bed, sure it would exact its revenge on me during the night. After all, I had probably enraged it.
Then this afternoon it found me, as it lurked just above the toilet in the bathroom. Happily, after a swift battle, he was flushed out of my life forever, and I haven’t seen another all day. However, tonight I did see a mosquito.
In other news: Both Beth and Ben believe I’d be better off blogging beaucoup. So these are the kinds of subjects you get if I haven’t got anything more inspirational!