He said it calmly enough. “Hand me some napkins, please.”
Let me set the scenario. We’re driving with the windows and sunroof open. The skies are blue, blue, blue. The tunes are on. I’m feeling good. We’re on our way to Colorado, and outside the window, the ready to be harvested fields and prairies of Nebraska are spread out all around us. There is no specter of the impending invasion. Calm, calm, calm.
And then he says that. I’ve learned, in the years that we’ve been married, to respond to those requests and ask questions afterwards. Because it means something. And this meant something, which I discovered as soon as I’d handed him a couple of napkins. I had time to snap a picture-don’t ask me why I snapped a picture. Evidence maybe, for when I went into hysterics. This is what had shown up IN OUR CAR, where it had no right to be! Where I never expected it, or anything remotely related to it, to appear. And yet, there it was, creeping its’ way along the very edge of the driver’s side windshield. One furry leg at a time, heading god knows where. Handsome Husband valiantly attempted to squash it, while also attempting to drive with one hand. (I imagine this is how many accidents happen around the world-horrible creatures suddenly appearing in cars, either causing hysteria in the driver, or in the passenger who is screaming at said driver to immediately if not sooner to nuke the crawly thing). Not that I screamed. I maintained my composure to a frightening degree as Handsome did what he could. Only to find out, alas, that the hairy-legged unwelcome visitor, had disappeared. Where? Where on god’s green earth in a car, in that little area, could a huge spider like that disappear? Handsome informed me that it could have easily crawled underneath the plastic thingy there (my word, not his). You know, the frame part between the windshield and the door frame. Ummmm….but where does it go from there? (I wonder with pounding heart). Will it meander its way to the bottom of the car, through the engine, and, I don’t know, swing like Spiderman to the ground? That could happen. But we all know that it won’t.
I spent the rest of our travel day keeping a wary eye on that corner of the window….waiting. And that is clearly going to be how my days progress ad infinitum. How else can they go? That creature is in our car! As I write this, it is very likely, climbing freely, willy nilly, through our belongings. Maybe setting up a nest. Finding another spider from I don’t know where, mating, and having millions of baby spiders, who will also run rampant through our stuff. If it were possible, I’d empty the car out, turn it on end, and shake it madly, until this hairy thing falls out. I’d be okay with it staying alive were I able to do this. But there are no cranes around to assist me in this. So, it looks like I must car bomb our car, and then we’ll not only be Happily Homeless, we’ll be sadly car-less. This may strike some of you, dear readers, as going overboard with reaction. We’re all entitled to our particular reactions. This is mine. Daddy Long Legs (and I don’t mean Fred Astaire) are barely acceptable. Hairy legged dudes like this. Completely unacceptable! My true reaction to spiders? Right here, folks~
Now, on to the next adventure. We’re going exercise walking. Which sounds simple enough. We’ve been told that there is a great walkway along the lake, here in Alma, Nebraska. Make sure to check it out, we’ve been told. And, not to alarm us or anything, because there is no cause for alarm, as they aren’t poisonous, but there are bull snakes around, some up to 6 feet in length (which already exceeds my 1 inch basic worm allowance on length of snakes I might see). No worries there though. Once again, I say. Ummm…..