I would like to send a message to all the orb weaver spiders out there, you are NOT welcome in, around or in the general vicinity of my humble abode. Apparently, there is some kind of vacancy sign that lights up on my porch every fall, attracting every wayward orb weaver.
Those of you that love the outdoors, eat granola and hug trees might not want to read further.
I discovered a new tenant of the eight-legged variety over my flower boxes the other night. This time last year, I was tolerant of this intrusion in my happily bug-free environment. I wondered at the beautiful webs, was fascinated by the killing instinct for all hapless lesser insects that happened to get trapped in said web, and treated its presence like a show-and-tell science presentation. Then my one visitor got bold. He claimed his squatter's rights. He invited his extended family to join in on his prime realty. At that point, I became a landlord intent on eviction. Armed with a can that will shoot a 25-foot spray of instant death, I took out all three inhabitants.
So, at the first sign of spider relocation to my porch this fall, I once again pull out the death spray and make quick work of spidey. No waiting for spontaneous multiplication this time. This is when nature seeks its revenge.
As I am stepping inside, a locust of the large, green and flying type makes a bee-line for my hair and enters the confines of my home while hitching a ride. It is at this point that I do an Oscar-worthy impression of Dustin Hoffman in Rainman. I am slapping at the grasshopper, which means I am slapping at my head. Which hurts. But I don't care. I want the green thing out of my hair pronto. Once this is accomplished and it flies off, I realize that I now have to hunt it down and do hand-to-hand combat. This is a clever opponent. As I place my hand on the back of a chair to maintain my balance as I crane around trying to spot its hideout, I become aware of beady black eyes staring at me mere millimeters from my digits. Screaming and running away quickly ensues. As if you thought I would do anything else in response?
After employing my best magazine-wielding skills, I emerge victorious and toss a locust carcass out my door.
Ugghhh.
And the locusts swarmed over the land of Egypt from border to border. It was the worst locust plague in Egyptian history, and there has never again been one like it.
Exodus 10:14
Sweet Tweets
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
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The way you tell a story makes me laugh. Mom
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