The Spider in the Doorway

I am deathly afraid of spiders. Cold hands, goosebumps, heart palpitations. The works. Lest you judge me, I will tell you I wasn't always this way. I used to be okay with spiders. I even used to "rescue" them from our house and set them free in the wild. My brother and I once had a wild tarantula (found on our front door one night) that we kept as a pet. I used to handle it all the time.

Now, I recognize that spiders have their purposes (like killing other pests/insects and being a creepy factor in a haunted house). But they have absolutely no purpose in my life. After I got bitten by a brown recluse (TWICE) and my skin puffed up and then died I've had a bit of  a totally insane fear of spiders.

So fast forward to last Tuesday. I had the house to myself and I'm cleaning and getting things done. I've taken out the recycling out to the garage and cleaned the back yard up. I'm on my way into the garage with a box full of paper recycling and I stop dead in my tracks. There's a MASSIVE spider on the doorway. So I did what any sane person would do: I dropped my box, screamed like a little girl and promptly backed up ten feet or so, because we all know that spiders can easily jump nine feet. Especially when you're the grand-frickin-daddy of all spiders. This thing was easily the largest spider I've ever been witness to outside of the zoo (and keep in mind I'm an expert since I've once had a comparatively SMALLER tarantula as a pet). And this wasn't a cutish spider with fuzzy legs. This monstrosity was evil incarnate, complete with eight skinny hairless legs. It was the size of my open palm, and I. AM. NOT. EXAGERRATING. Oh how I wish that I were.

I quickly wracked my brain for ways to dispose of the spider. I can't get close to a spider, that's absolutely out of the question. And a showdown between a normal sized shoe and this monster of a spider could have gone either way, plus I wouldn't wear the shoes after that so I had to find another way to murder him. I thought about hosing him down off the door jamb and then smashing him in with a rock, but that also brought about the possiblity of getting too close. Plus, I stood a great chance of just hosing him into the garage, near where I keep my craft supplies. That would not do. I've had great success just putting a jar or tupperware over eight-legged offenders before and waiting til my hubby gets home to do the deed but this sucker was on the side of the doorway and I'm pretty sure he could have carried off my entire stash of tupperware, all at once. There was nothing for it, I'd have to phone the husband and ask for advice.

So I called him at work, in his office. He was busy, I could tell from his tone of voice and the many voices in the background, but I didn't care. He had to be witness to my death from spider if it all didn't go to plan. He'd have to know how it all had gone down. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: "THERE'S A HUGE FRICKING SPIDER IN THE GARAGE."
Him: "Okay. Just leave it there. I'll take care of it later."
Me: "No. I don't think you understand. It's seen me. It knows I'm here now. It has to die."
Him: (laughing) "Okay. So get a shoe."
Me: "I don't think that'll work. It's too big. I don't know what to do. Should I just throw a rock at it and hope to hit it and smash it in?"
Him: "No. Your aim is terrible."
Me: (whining) "but then what?"
Him: "What about a flyswatter?"
Me: "That might work, but I'll have to get close. And I'll have to throw the flyswatter away later. I won't be able to use it again. I don't know that I can do this."
Him: "Really? Throw it away? Just wipe it off."
Me: "HELL no. It could come back from the dead or something. I can't do this. It would be easier to just concede defeat and buy a different house."
Him: "just do it. I'm waiting."
Me: "You're going to have to clean it up when I'm done. I won't be able to dispose of the body or the flyswatter. I can't touch them again."
Him: "Really?"
Me: "K. I'm doing it. 1....2....EEEEEEK."

The eek part was really just me screaming, loudly. Like a little girl. I did manage to kill the spider, one swat. After swinging, I dropped the flyswatter and ran. Just in case, you know, I had missed or angered the beast. The evidence is still in the doorway. I couldn't bring myself to get any nearer again. The husband urged me to "check to see if it's really dead." Are. You. Kidding. Me? Absolutely not. It's down, curled into a ball. I refuse to get any closer a second time. The first time took an incredible amount of strength. I'm not made of the kind of stuff that allows me to get near to death twice in one go.

PLEASE ONLY SCROLL DOWN IF YOU ARE NOT DEATHLY AFRAID OF SPIDERS...
I'm going to post photos of the beast. Mainly because he was pretty impressive, but you also need to understand how close to death I came. And survived. These photos are not for the weak of heart. You've been warned. You still have time to look away. Go, run now.

Okay so he looks smaller in this photo, because it's out of context. The width of that door jamb is a standard CMU (concrete masonry unit) and that's approximately 7 5/8" thick, so he's about 1/3 of that in diameter, which puts him at about 2.5" diameter. SCARY. Even the husband conceded that it was the biggest spider he'd seen outside of the zoo.