My home office is separated from my house. Each morning with drink in hand (non-alcoholic, of course) I leave my home and walk across to the staircase that will take me up to my bird's nest office where I can survey my property from 360 degrees.
This morning as I reached the bottom of the staircase, a field spider sat in my way.
"It's dead," I told myself just before it moved.
I stood there and it sat there and we studied each other for a long time.
There was no alternate way to my office. So there I stood, prepared for the day and unable to proceed.
If my husband had been home, I would have screamed. Screams and crying always get a quick response.
But he wasn't home.
I have a pest control contract. I thought briefly of going back in the house, calling the pest control company and reporting the spider.
Then I decided I was a big girl, and this was my house.
So I went back in the house and went out the side door leading to my garage. I would get the vacuum cleaner and suck up that critter, I thought. But it wouldn't be with MY vacuum cleaner. After all, what if it crawled out while I was vacuuming the living room? No; I would use my husband's handy-dandy shop vacuum that could suck up a Volkswagon.
I sneaked inside the garage door. Quiet, quiet, so the spider wouldn't know I was there. I walked along the back edge, tiptoeing, until I spotted the vacuum cleaner. Very gently, I pulled out the cord and tiptoed back to the far wall and plugged it in. Then silently, like a sniper, I walked in slow-motion back to my weapon. I disconnected the floor attachment and quietly moved into position.
A baby gate, meant to keep my dogs from eating all my husband's tools, separated me from the location of the spider.
So silently, stealthily, I raised the vacuum cleaner hose over the baby gate and maneuvered into position. I was ready.
I stepped forward, pointing the vacuum cleaner toward the base of the steps.
The spider was gone.
The only thing worse than seeing a spider is knowing there is one big, hairy, fat field spider somewhere in the room, and you don't know where.
My husband's garage has never been cleaner.
And no, I never found it.
