Note: This post does not have surprise pictures of spiders. I don’t like that and I won’t inflict it on anyone else.
Arachnids are not my friends. As I’ve said before, if they are outside killing mosquitoes and gnats, as long as I can see-and-avoid, I’m pretty cool. If I walk into a web I do a pretty good kung-fu master impression, flailing and waving my arms. Inside the house? Different story—out comes the Sneaker of Doom. But even outdoors there are limits, and one was reached last month at Redquarters.
I went into the back yard to see if I needed to pick anything up on my way back from a staff meeting. My parents were both staring at an empty plastic flowerpot, from a safe distance from said grey-colored pot. This is not normal. As I got closer, Mom backed farther away and Dad turned to go indoors.
About this point I could see the matted, tangled mess of a web filling a good portion of the top of the flowerpot. I stopped coming closer, because I know exactly what kind of spider makes that sort of web, and why my folks were giving the pot a very wide berth. Indeed, as I watched, a large (OK, good sized) shiny black spider with a very large abdomen and a red hourglass made its way to the top of the pot.
Yup. Black widow and it looked nothing like Scarlett Johansson, believe me. Dad Red returned with the bug spray and proceeded to spray the living daylights out of the thing. Mom got father away. Once the spider seemed dead, Dad tipped the pot over with a long stake and crushed the remains. No, they were not taking any chances. Black widow stings are something you don’t want to have to deal with. Normally my folks are live-and-let live with spiders, but this was a massive exception.
I really don’t like spiders.