Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

arachnids, reindeer, and roosters past

It all started with a spider.

For whatever reason (and I'm sure someone out there will have an answer) I've noticed a sudden onslaught of giant black tarantula-looking spiders scurrying across my living room floor at all hours of the day and night. So, while it's always a shock to see a spider, I wasn't overly surprised when I saw this particular one out of the corner of my eye as I sat down to work on my laptop. But surprised or not, this spider, just like all of his arachnid friends, had to go. So, I jumped up from my chair and bolted for the closest bottle of spray cleaner to disable him long enough to stomp. I squeezed the trigger again and again until his little legs stuck up and he stopped moving.

That's when the phone rang.

Can anyone tell me why I can never find the cordless phone when it's ringing? I run across them all day long when I don't need one, but the minute it starts to ring, I can't seem to locate a handset. And the genius who designed my cordless system decided it would be a good idea to have the charging station ring when a call comes in. So here I am, running from charging station to charging station, thinking I'll find a phone that never seems to be where it belongs when I need it.

I finally find the missing handset next to the stove in the kitchen (the first place any logical person would look, right?) and after a few minutes convincing with my local phone provider that I really and truly don't want they're lesser quality internet service over the high speed product I'm currently using, I discover something delectable cooking on the stove. (This would be a perfectly normal occurrence if not for the fact that I'm the only one home and I didn't cook anything today.) So at the risk of stumbling across something horrible in the pot, I lifted the lid and took a deep breath. Mmmm. Stew.

A quick phone call to the hubby solved the mystery of the stew (delicious deer meat courtesy of my mother when she came to visit.) So, as much as I'd like to feel bad that I'm serving myself a nice bowl of Bambi stew...no, it's Christmastime...we'll call it Rudolph, no, Donner stew, because Donner was such a jerk in the classic Rudolph Christmas special it somehow seems fitting we cook him in a pot.  So as I dish up my Donner stew, I remember I had work to do and I take my bowl and spoon and head back to my laptop in the living room.

And that's when I realized the spider was gone. Nothing but a wet trail left behind as he miraculously pulled himself out of the puddle of bleach cleaner to flee the scene. I lost his trail somewhere near the dining room table and gave up.

I just didn't have the heart to hunt him down. Maybe we've had enough killing around the haunted farmhouse for one week. I still think about poor Clooney every time open the refrigerator doors. He just doesn't look the same without his feathers...or his head. Oh well, no use crying over dead roosters.

Besides, I have to keep a look out for my wayward spider.  I have no doubt I'll find him again, and when I do, I won't hesitate to spray and stomp. And I won't feel a bit of sorrow for his loss. Hey, that's just how I roll. Don't judge me.

Until the next time...I'll be hunting spiders.

Copyright © 2000-2016, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.