New spider policy

Diver Dave and I agree on most things, at the risk of sounding smug in a vomit inducing way. And this week we have agreed on a new policy for dealing with the resident spiders. This was precipitated by our agreed horror on the lingering demise of a large spider that wouldn't go without a fight and a run around the house. The sight of Dave chasing it, wielding a large can of bug spray, successfully hitting it square between many many eyes with not-fast-enough acting poison alternated between the hilarious and the horrendous. It finally expired in my new tupperware bowl. Ick.

We agreed that it's not the spider's fault that it's so big and ugly. It's not their fault that they want a nice dry place to shelter in when it's raining. So our agreed coping mechanism when confronted by the urge to scream hysterically over a fast and hairy intruder, is to apportion a personality to it. You know - bored, sleepy , cross, cold... er... pregnant, etc, although we don't actually go as far as naming them. This might result in some degree of loss if the recipient should be overcome by bug bomb fumes and keel over. But Dave recalled, with a worrying amount of nostalgia, how back in the UK, in his freezing cold workshop, a large spider would pop out to share the heat from the lamp on his workbench, then scuttle away again once the light was switched off. It appears Diver Dave was glad of the company.

Well all this agreement is all well and good, but what about that enormous creature that emerged from behind the bookcase with a vengeance to make a star appearance on the bedroom wall at 2 o'clock this morning? It was only revealed when one of us switched on the light to go to the loo. "Do you want me to get rid of it?" Dave asked sleepily. "No, no, don't worry," I replied, bravely when "YES - PLEEEEEEEEASE!" was what was really going on in my head (why did he not sense the silent screaming?). A few minutes later he switched the light back on, "Just checking it was still there," he reassured me. Aaaarrrgghhh!!!!

Needless to say, I did not sleep very well and that particular uninvited guest's personality so far is "Mom" - a reflection of all the spiderlets we think it is responsible for on our bedroom ceiling. I think we both agree that that's pretty yuk.

We have since also agreed that it is permissable to freak out when, next day, the afore mentioned visitor leaps out at you from a towel that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door as you go for a shower. This naughty spider is now sitting in a flower pot at the bottom of the garden, looking somewhat offended.

Getting up & going to bed in Australia

Last night Diver Dave was already in bed asleep by the time I'd finished watching..er... John Travolta - Inside the Actors' Studio. Well? Could have been worse; could have been Jerry Springer.

Well anyway, as I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, I became aware of a lot of hoofing about going on outside the door. Judging correctly that not even the resident spiders could be making THAT much noise, I realised it was some new kind of Diver Dave getting-up-and-going-to-bed-again ceremony. When asked (through the bathroom door) what on earth he was up to, Diver Dave replied, "I'm moving out", followed quickly by "..and I'm taking you with me."

On venturing out of the bathroom, I discovered that he'd moved all our bedding into the spare room. Why? Because one of our resident spiders had left behind a million billion babies on the bedroom ceiling. We think it was probably the one that Dave chased behind the bookcase the other evening, clearly allowing it to have the last laugh.

I was a bit reluctant to leave the lovely room I'd spent days decorating but had no choice once I knew Dave was going to get serious with the bug spray. Bedroom safely evacuated, Dave showed no mercy.

Next morning, I was treated to the sight of Diver Dave leaping around our new-ish garden furniture with the outdoor version of the bug spray; the really mean one that sees off the red backs (although I STILL haven't seen any). Sarong flapping wildly in the breeze, Dave nearly succeeded in eradicating himself before breakfast.

There are still a few spider-icles in the bedroom so Dave says we have to use the Bug Bomb next. Crikey.

When bug bombs go wrong: http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/metro/20031218-9999_7m18bugs.html