I didn't realize this until Tuesday night when she got home from work (late, by the way) and set a bag on the kitchen counter. She claims she saw the hairy thick leg of the beast under the edge of the counter and that's what set off the first scream. I was in her writing den and knew we had a big one.
I swear, she chased it all over the living room with the Raid can, coating it until it was snowy white…
The good news is she won. The wolf spider did not. What gets me is she won't touch the things for at least 24 hours after they've stopped twitching. She just fears them leaping up and skittering up her arm or something as she goes to collect their carcasses. (What's this? Well if you didn't read over my shoulder you wouldn't get "the heebie jeebies" over what I'm writing, now would you?)
Here's my question to all you visitors out there, whether you have authors or not: do all women do this? Leave the carcass for a day? It's kind of disgusting… But she insists it must lay there until she's absolutely sure it's dead. She used to make the moron that lived here show her the dead carcass if he killed one of these things. If he couldn't produce a body, she didn't believe he'd killed the spider and, oh, didn't we have a nightmare then? She can't tolerate one of those things alive in the house. They really can get quite large…and the larger the spider, the more piercing the scream. The faster the spider is moving, the more clipped and rapid the succession of screams. I'm not kidding. It's insane. She can fire off a series of four or five of these piercing shrieks (What? Well you won't let me write about anything else…)
Woah. Next…I'm going to post a blog about the author's childhood. (Wait a minute…I thought you repressed your childhood.)
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