Mood lighting:
My reflection stares back at me in the now nearly opaque sliding glass door overlooking one of many carports and in the distance the slightly distinguishable silhouette of the mountains. Our movies are done. Our trip onto entertainment island at an end. I set out on the perilous late night dog walk to avoid another unfortunate wake up call of Shawna screaming, “The dog P!$$&) in the bed!” As I approach that inevitable area where carpet meets linoleum I see something. In my peripheral vision, just above and beyond clear sight I see a motion of blackness.
Quick stepping:
Realizing I was not asleep so this moving blackness could not possibly be the shadows I dream of in nightmares, I gather in a better look. It was a spider. Nay… not just a spider, THEspider. That spider from stories. From news stories long forgotten or urban legends still maintaining a feeble existence on some college campuses, since being relocated from real universities but not yet desperate enough for community colleges. Yes, THE SPIDER. The big one. The BLACK WIDOW. I’ll be honest. I harbor a bit of arachnophobia. I have managed to suppress it to a point through my sheer zoological curiosity. I am a virtual cat in that area. But, I was immediately aware that this particular spider demanded too much respect for my feeble attempts at calmness. I may have slightly freaked, although mostly on the inside to save face in front of Shawna. As we thought it through and decided it may be a large black widow, I decided the Internet can shed light on the subject. Did we have to move? Does she now own our home through some strange black widow common law of real estate? Did you get the cat reference from above yet? I hope you did. We found that most exterminators ask that it not be squished, but rather kept safely for the exterminator to address. I put it in a glass cup and then transferred both spider and cup into a large ziplock bag. I would have used a small one, and just the spider, but let’s face it, we don’t need PETA knocking on our door in the morning, am I right? A small clear house with a view, protected from would be predators with the miracle of plastic, I can’t imagine upsetting even the most avid animal lover.
Aftermath and research and development:
Now, in our research we found that these spiders are said to be either and inch, or 2cm… Europeans… odd lot. But, I am here to tell you, she doesn’t live by the standards of others. She marches to the beat of her own eight-legged drummer boy. Her abdomen is easily as big around as a standard-sized marble. Front to back, at least and inch, and two sets of back legs an inch long each. I don’t exaggerate these measurements, I have no need to. I am inquisitive. I examined and scrutinized her. When I moved the glass, she played dead. You read me. (re-read that in the past tense of to read… there. That’s better.) You read correctly. She flipped on her back both revealing her hourglass frame, and trying to lure me into her web of destruction. When I moved the glass away, she miraculously regained consciousness and was VERY alert. I have looked into it and it turns out, so far at least, I have found nothing on this behavior in black widow spiders… what IS she?
Sentence fragments are cool. That wasn’t one:
Well, there you have it. This “spider” issue has now become more “real” to me than even the earthquake we narrowly avoided sever dizziness from on the 29th of July in southern California. After that, I had a talk with the kids, and we collectively made our plans of action, etc. After Ms. Widow however, I took my German spelunking flashlight and searched in every crevice in our kitchen and bedroom. I almost went through the kids room as well, but settled for shutting windows to avoid the obvious reunion that was hastily planned in our neighborhood. I then stripped our bed and re-made it searching for the… well, the other super spiders laying in wait to ambush us for the disappearance of what may be the largest black widow on the planet. I swear when I caught her, she looked straight at me, flipped that hourglass and pointed in my face followed by the motion of slitting a throat. I doubt she could get out, but I have hired a body guard. At any rate, I continued searching: beneath dressers, end tables, the bed, inside various boxes and in general all around the house. nearly 2 full hours after the ordeal we drifted off to slightly interrupted sleep.
She still sits, alive, outside our door in the hall for neighbors to peer at in curiosity. Until Monday… until Monday… until… Mon… day.
Two Working Parents 
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