Well, it’s spring and you know what that means: yep, spiders.

Spring also means washing windows, which is what I decided to do today when the temperature climbed up into the high teens. But washing the windows meant removing screens and and that meant there was plenty of time that my house was left vulnerable to Invasion of the Creepy Crawlies. So, I guess it’s my own dang fault for wanting to see out my windows.

To all the spider lovers out there – I KNOW: spiders are supposed to be SO GREAT because apparently their whole deal involves eating a bunch of other bugs. This is what my husband always reminds me of whenever I subpoena him for spider-disposal duty. As if reciting Science Facts will suddenly have me making up the spare room for our new guest. And the last time I looked, I don’t exactly have a bunch of other bugs in my house that necessitates an assassin to take up residence with me.

I have always maintained that as long as Rick is in the house, it is his responsibility to “take care” of any such unwanted visitors. (I’m not going to say “kill” because I leave the means of disposal up to him. Plus, I don’t want to offend any spiders who happen to read my blog.) However, if my male counterpart isn’t readily available, I will “take care” of the intruder myself. Because I can’t take the chance that he’s an extroverted spider who intends to call all his friends to come join him. Or a female spider because: You Know.

Usually this sort of “taking care” involves at least two layers of paper towel, because I need as much protection as possible from any spiderly-body-fluids that may happen to escape when I am “taking care” of the spider. The other thing that always happens when my paper towel blanket “shrouds” the spider (at an impressively rapid speed if I do say so myself) is that a strange sort of sound escapes from my mouth, not unlike the grunt I would probably make if I was chopping down a large tree. I can’t help it anymore than Hugh Grant’s character in Notting Hill can stop himself from saying “Oopsie Daisies.”

It makes no sense, this Rather Large Aversion I have for Critters That Don’t Belong in My House. After all, the spider in the picture above, although impressively large when compared to that door hinge, is still a whole lot smaller than me. And not poisonous. (At least, probably not poisonous.) But they’re awfully fast. And they can bite your face in the middle of the night. And, in some movies, grow to enormous sizes. Or turn you into a leotard-wearing superhero. Which I have No Interest In Doing. At All.

So, out they go. My House, My Rules. Which is why when I discovered a second spider in the shower right after Rick got home today, I made him “take care” of it. And except for the usual speech about a spider’s redeeming qualities, he did so without any weird grunts or girlish epithets. Or even two ply of paper towel.