I Fought the Spider and…I WON!”

I hate, loath and despise spiders—and they seem to know it because I’m always the one to find them. Oh, I know that they help to keep the bug population down, which I appreciate. I also admire their exquisite webs, some of which are quite creative. Also, I do love the book, “Charlotte’s Web,” and cried at the end of it.

BUT—your general, everyday, run-of-the-mill spider just gives me the creeps. I was horrified to see pictures on the Internet of giant spiders in Australia large enough to cover an entire window……yeeeesh. I myself would move out of there tout de suite. While I watched the movie “Lord of the Rings” and the Harry Potter movie with the giant spiders in the forest, well….that was altogether too real and way too creepy for me.

Somewhere I heard (and hopefully this isn’t real) that there is a species of flying spiders. Or spiders that can sort of hang-glide their way down from trees. Great—like the regular non-flying ones aren’t bad enough.

But at least there are no giant arachnids any where near here…I devoutly hope. But there was one in the shower the other morning. It wasn’t a little one, either. It was as large as a quarter (legs and all). As I wasn’t quite done with my shower at the time, I bravely did not jump out of the tub; I fought back.

I used the shower head to manipulate it to the drain, hoping that it would be pushed down into it. But no—it clung to the drain with all eight legs. So I grabbed the conditioner and covered him in it. That got him down the drain! I watched for him, but he didn’t emerge, so I got out of the tub and toweled off.

But since I don’t trust spiders, I poured some bleach down the drain as a chaser to the conditioner. Cruel maybe, but it got him out of my tub.

At least he died with soft hair and some nice blonde highlights.

I Do Not Buy the “Five Seconds” Rule

I don’t agree with the “five seconds rule;” i.e., if you drop food on the floor you can eat it if it’s only been on the floor for five seconds or less. Sorry, this has been disproved many times.; if food falls on the floor, bacteria jumps onto it like a pit bull on a pork chop. DON’T EAT IT.

What are we, dogs? Dogs will eat anything off the floor, but then they lick their butts, too, so there you go.

It doesn’t matter what kind of food falls on the floor, either, according to the “five seconders.” But I don’t care if it’s the last juicy bit of pan-seared salmon with pine nuts and fresh pomegranate seeds—if it falls on the floor, it’s nuclear waste to me.

Mind you, I grew up in the ’50’s where kids were outside a lot more than they were inside. We routinely ate (or at least licked) mud pies, we played with dogs and cats, climbed trees, skinned our knees on a regular basis—we were little germ factories. Science says that this makes us strong and more immune to diseases. I agree.

But I do NOT agree that it’s ok to eat food off the floor, not even if it landed on an angel’s big toe and then bounced once on an immaculate floor cleaned inch by inch by house elves. The whole idea gives me, as the Brits would say, the collywobbles.

Now I will admit to cutting off any green bits of mold on a piece of cheese and eating the non-moldy parts. But if it falls on the floor then the deal’s off.

I was once in a super market and turned to go down the cereal isle. There at the end of the isle was a man with both hands shoved down his pants, scratching away as he perused the boxes of cereal.

When he decided on a cereal he liked, he pulled one hand out of his pants and put the cereal box in his basket. After shuddering for about five minutes, I decided I didn’t need cereal ever again.

In my book, eating things that have dropped onto the floor is nasty and germy. I also don’t recommend french-kissing your dog, either (please refer back to the butt licking reference above).

I had a college roommate who loved Milky Way bars, but only if she warmed them first on top of the radiator in our room. I’ll admit that they smelled good, but putting a bare naked candy bar on top of a dusty, dirty radiator—-yuck.

While we are talking about the five seconds rule, let me also bring up the subject of hand-washing. Hand washing means exactly that: hot water and soap, scrub for at least one verse of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” then rinse and wipe the hands on a clean towel. Running them under water for three seconds with no soap doesn’t count. I am amazed (and disgusted) by how many women in the restroom will walk out of a stall and NOT wash their hands.

But I’m getting off subject here. There are plenty of things that are yuck-worthy, but I’m already queasy just writing about the five seconds rule. Please—do NOT eat food off the floor!

Bye  for now, I’m going to go wash my hands…again.