I Have A Confession To Make, I'm Afraid Of My Bathroom

A few days ago, I was standing at the bathroom sink when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move.  I looked down and found a huge, furry spider in the sink.  When I say huge, I mean gigantic.  Ginormous.  Herculean.  Immense.  Jumbo.  Mammoth.  Brobdingnagian (my new word of the day).  It had a leg span of at least five inches.  Or maybe it was five centimeters.  All I know is that it was big.

I have no idea where it came from, but I think it dropped from somewhere above the sink.  It could have been on the medicine cabinet or the wall, or maybe (gulp) it was on me.  Could I have had a spider chilling out on my shoulder or my arm and not have known it?  Seems unlikely, but anything is possible.

My first thought was to grab something large and heavy and squish him, but there was nothing handy in the bathroom.  I didn't want to go looking for something in another room because, knowing how tricky spiders can be, I was sure he disappear while I was gone.  The only weapon I could find without taking my eyes off of him was water, so that's what I used.  I turned the faucet on and tried to splash him toward the drain.

At first he did nothing but laugh at me (he was laughing with his eyes, anyway).  He gave me a look that said "You may be bigger, but I'm faster.  Splash away, silly woman."  Then he began to run up the side of the sink, making a break for the countertop and potential freedom.  It was then that I spied the cup my daughter had left next to the sink after brushing her teeth.  I snatched it (with Ninja like speed and agility) and filled it with water.  I doused the intruder which caused him to lose his footing and surf toward the drain on a mini wave.  A split second later and he was sliding into the drain and out of sight.

This was not my first (spider) rodeo, however, so I was not about to fall for that hiding-under-the-drain plug trick.  I pulled up on the lever that closes the drain and filled the sink with water.  If there was even the tiniest gap around the plug, he was going to need mini scuba gear to escape.  After twenty or thirty minutes, I released the lever and let all two or three gallons of water slide down the pipe.  I figured that was certainly enough water to wash him down the drain and on his journey toward the water processing plant.

Or was it?  Since then, I've wondered if he could have gripped the underside of the drain plug and found a little air bubble to keep him alive (do spiders have lungs?).  In his little spider brain (do spiders have brains?), he could have concocted a plan to hide out and wait for me.  When the bathroom light went off, he would have known that the coast was clear to make an escape.

So now, when I flip on the light in the bathroom, the first thing I do is look for him.  I look in the sink, on the walls, the floor, the toilet.  I haven't found him (yet), but sometimes I think I feel him watching me.  Or maybe it isn't him at all, but a spider friend or family member bent on making me pay for what I did.  Spider revenge......I'm afraid.  I'm very afraid.

Willoughby