Last night we were watching a nature documentary. They showed footage of a spider species in Borneo that works as a colony to build huge webs and capture larger prey. Creepy, right? Yeah. So, Tim says, "That does not make me excited to go out to the barn tonight."
Our barn is covered with spiders. They're everywhere. And for the most part, I don't mind. They keep the fly population down, I leave them be. Except for the rare occasion that one leaves the web and wonders onto my person hood. This, I consider a complete breach of contract and all bets are off. Night time is the worst. I mean who loves walking into a spider's web in broad daylight? Doing so in the dark of night adds a whole 'nother level of creepiness.
So, knowing that Tim was apprehensive about the nightly task of separating baby goats and mama goats in the middle of a barn spider fiesta (and feeling the guilt of knowing that somehow this task got delegated to him without his actual consent), I decided to come along.
"I'll go with you and protect you. I'll be the spider whisperer." I offered supportively. (You already know how this is going to turn out, don't you?)
We filled up the water jug for the goats and headed out the front door and down the porch stairs; Tim courageously leading the way. Barely two steps up the walk, he jerks backward, waving his arms frantically in front of him. "That was the biggest web I have ever hit and I have no idea where the spider is!" Still slapping at his shirt and arms, he passes me the water jug so he can de-web with both hands.
There were several things going through my mind: Poor Tim. I hate that this is happening to him. Thank God he was leading! Hey, is this water jug leaking? At which point I held it up to the street lamp and noticed the dangling legs of the biggest spider ever right in front of my face!
"Oh, sh--, sh--, sh--! I am not the spider whisperer! I AM NOT THE SPIDER WHISPERER!!!"
Tim flung around and heroically grabbed the jug from my hand and the spider drop to the ground where it quickly met with the bottom of Tim's shoe. whew!
We stood their doing that silly giggling thing you do when you're relieved but still a little creeped out. Harrowing. Yes. It was. And yet there is likely to be one among you who feels sorry for Mr. Spider and his untimely demise. Let me just say, I understand...
that you are an idiot! Seriously. This is a piddly front yard in Wake Forest, NC not the rain forest of Borneo. The expanse between the exterior wall of my house and the closest tree limb is a minimum of four feet. FOUR FEET! I mean, what was he trying to catch? The neighbor's cat? Not on our watch. Well, Tim's watch, anyway. Heck no, I'm not going back out there!