There's a Spider in my Room

A whisper drizzled down from the ice in its eyes
It said, "Try pickin' on your own damn size"...


Right before I stepped into the bathroom to take a shower this morning, I kicked aside one of Rob's shirts from the bedroom floor, and a spider scurried out.

The neighbors three buildings down must have thought I got run through with a knife.

"WHAT?!" Rob bellowed as he burst into the bedroom. He had been working in the living room with headphones on.

Me: IT'S A SPIDER!

Rob: WHERE?!

"UNDER YOUR SHIRT!" I pointed dramatically to the floor.

He picked at it gingerly, lifting folds and peeking under them, as if, any second, a huge, scary spider would come out and make mincemeat of us both. The house spider (which was neither huge nor scary, nor did it warrant any amount of screaming at all, and certainly not the amount of screaming that was done over it) scurried out from under the collar.

"AAAAAAAH! KILL IT!", he yelled at me, and flung a newspaper in my direction, indicating that I be the one to "off it".

"NO! PICK IT UP AND PUT IT OUTSIDE!" (I'm a really big hippie sometimes.)

"I'M KILLING IT!"

"YOU AREN'T EITHER ROB BLATT! YOU PUT THAT THING OUTSIDE SAFELY!"

He rolled up a newspaper and got ready to swing while I grabbed his arm and pulled. It didn't do much because he's got about 50 pounds on me. I rose to a shriek.

YOU ARE NOT GOING TO KILL ONE OF GOD'S INNOCENT CREATURES! THAT'S DISRESPECTFUL AND WE DO NOT HAVE THAT KIND OF HOUSEHOLD!

He shook me off and turned to face me. He wrinkled his eyebrows together, so they made only long, hairy eyebrow instead of two. It's his sign for "Girl, you're pissing me off."

"LOOK, YOU CALLED ME TO GET IT, AND I'M GOING TO TAKE CARE OF IT THE WAY I WANT TO! YOU DON'T TELL THE POLICE HOW TO DO THEIR JOBS! YOU JUST CALL THEM AND THEY COME!"

"I CALLED YOU AND I'M TELLING YOU TO SCOOP IT UP AND PUT IT OUT!"

"YOU PUT IT OUT THEN! I'M KILLING IT!"

The dog joined us to see what the commotion was about.

"MATTIE! EAT IT!" Rob pointed to the miniature invader who had managed to half-hide under an electrical cord.

"DON'T YOU MAKE MY BABY EAT A SPIDER!" I gave him my own version of the "one eyebrow angry face", which, generally, I try to avoid because I don't want to have to Botox my forehead when I'm older. I save it for the rare occasions of demonstrated idiocy that occur in my house, like when my boyfriend tries to make the innocent dog swallow a spider. (that wiggled and jiggled and tickled...oh. nevermind.)

I managed to get the tiny creature, who probably was wishing at this point that she'd gone into any other apartment but ours (or that the dog DID eat her), into a spaghetti sauce jar.

"NOT THAT JAR! I'M GOING TO USE IT FOR SOMETHING!"

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO USE IT FOR?!"

"uh...duh...SOMETHING!"

Right. I ignored him and, with a deft flip of my wrist managed to pin the spider into the jar with a magazine. He reached for the jar.

"NO! YOU'RE JUST GOING TO KILL IT!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO KILL IT! I'M GOING TO PUT IT OUT!"

"Promise?"

"Give me the goddam jar, Amber."

This was the point I didn't have much choice. I certainly was not in a position to go out onto the balcony! (Remember, I was about to get into the shower when this all started.) I handed it over and watched to make sure he didn't squash it once I couldn't follow him anymore. He put it out on the balcony, and eventually the spider wandered out and away. Now, really, couldn't he have just done that in the first place?

Postscript: Disagreements with one's significant other, even small ones about disposing of a spider, are automatically unfairly matched when one partner has the disadvantage of being without her clothes. If you find yourself in similar situation, grab a sweater, or even just a towel, to even the playing field a bit.