Eight-Legged Freaks
I'm sitting on my porch, glancing through my mail, and I see this guy knock on my neighbor's door, wait a few minutes, and then start to walk towards me. I think to myself, "Self, that's a salesman," and wonder what he's out selling at 8:30pm. Maybe night vision goggles. Cool.
Turns out he's from Orkin, and they're running a special deal in our neighborhood for the next two days. I talk to him a little, and finally ask him how much, 'cause I'd like to spray the place for spiders, and he says, "$78, every two months or so." Apparently it normally runs about twice that. Geez. I never know how much that sort of thing costs, and I expected less, so I'm disappointed. I tell him I'd love to get it done, but that there's just no way I can afford that.
I get his number so I can call him if I change my mind, and then we stand there for a minute more talking, and I tell him about the three half-dollar sized spiders I've seen inside and outside recently. He tells me they might be brown recluses. Brown recluses, if you aren't familiar with them, can be pretty dangerous.
I tell him a story from back in the day, a couple of weeks ago, when Denise and I are sitting out on the porch having adult beverages. She has a Jack and Coke sitting on the windowsill, and I glance over to see a quarter-sized spider crawling down the window towards it, about a foot above it. I tell her to get her drink, before it goes swimming and we have to explain to its parents how it got drunk.
As she reaches for her drink, that spider's two front legs come up over its head, and that little bastard is ready for battle. If she had hesitated for just a moment, it would have been all over her, but luckily she moved pretty fast, I guess because she didn't see it do that. I sure as hell would've stopped, anyway. As she takes her drink, the thing fucking leaps at her arm, missing her by an inch or two.
Spiders SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO JUMP. I guess I should be glad they can't fly.
So Michael, the Orkin guy, goes, "Yeah...I hate to tell you, but that sounds like a brown recluse." [A friend later pointed me to a website which says brown recluses don't jump.] I've pondered whether the ones I have are brown recluses, even though they seem a little big for that. I ask him if he can come in and look around the basement with me, so we go downstairs; he's got this little flashlight, and we see about a dozen spiders in the ten square foot area we look at, including this guy, who was a little bigger than a quarter.
Goddamn spiders. I'll go without food if I have to; I signed up. Michael was crazy. He got right up to that one above, and started poking it with the end of his little six-inch flashlight, until the thing leaped at him and we both jumped.
So of course, now every time the air conditioning tickles me, or I get an itch on my neck, or whatever, it's a spider. It has to be. A big hairy one. Damn spiders.
Michael was pretty cool; he seemed like someone I would go out drinking with. We were talking about my neighbors a little later, and I asked him whether he could spray for those; he laughed and said it would have to be cash under the table. They listen to Michael Bolton really loud with the windows open; sounds like a plan to me.
Currently listening to: "Seattle Was A Riot", Anti-Flag
Turns out he's from Orkin, and they're running a special deal in our neighborhood for the next two days. I talk to him a little, and finally ask him how much, 'cause I'd like to spray the place for spiders, and he says, "$78, every two months or so." Apparently it normally runs about twice that. Geez. I never know how much that sort of thing costs, and I expected less, so I'm disappointed. I tell him I'd love to get it done, but that there's just no way I can afford that.
I get his number so I can call him if I change my mind, and then we stand there for a minute more talking, and I tell him about the three half-dollar sized spiders I've seen inside and outside recently. He tells me they might be brown recluses. Brown recluses, if you aren't familiar with them, can be pretty dangerous.
I tell him a story from back in the day, a couple of weeks ago, when Denise and I are sitting out on the porch having adult beverages. She has a Jack and Coke sitting on the windowsill, and I glance over to see a quarter-sized spider crawling down the window towards it, about a foot above it. I tell her to get her drink, before it goes swimming and we have to explain to its parents how it got drunk.
As she reaches for her drink, that spider's two front legs come up over its head, and that little bastard is ready for battle. If she had hesitated for just a moment, it would have been all over her, but luckily she moved pretty fast, I guess because she didn't see it do that. I sure as hell would've stopped, anyway. As she takes her drink, the thing fucking leaps at her arm, missing her by an inch or two.
Spiders SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO JUMP. I guess I should be glad they can't fly.
So Michael, the Orkin guy, goes, "Yeah...I hate to tell you, but that sounds like a brown recluse." [A friend later pointed me to a website which says brown recluses don't jump.] I've pondered whether the ones I have are brown recluses, even though they seem a little big for that. I ask him if he can come in and look around the basement with me, so we go downstairs; he's got this little flashlight, and we see about a dozen spiders in the ten square foot area we look at, including this guy, who was a little bigger than a quarter.
Goddamn spiders. I'll go without food if I have to; I signed up. Michael was crazy. He got right up to that one above, and started poking it with the end of his little six-inch flashlight, until the thing leaped at him and we both jumped.
So of course, now every time the air conditioning tickles me, or I get an itch on my neck, or whatever, it's a spider. It has to be. A big hairy one. Damn spiders.
Michael was pretty cool; he seemed like someone I would go out drinking with. We were talking about my neighbors a little later, and I asked him whether he could spray for those; he laughed and said it would have to be cash under the table. They listen to Michael Bolton really loud with the windows open; sounds like a plan to me.
Currently listening to: "Seattle Was A Riot", Anti-Flag
1 Comments:
Yeah...night vision goggles would have been cooler. Plus, now I'll have to abandon my plan to jar up a bunch of spiders and let them loose in your office. Damn my hasty decisions!
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