I finally filed my 2011 taxes today (10 days before the final extension deadline thank you very much, so no one can say it was at the last minute, because 10 days is so not the last minute) and I saw a dead snake on the side of the road. A diamondback to be specific, so you’re probably thinking “Hmmm…taxes…snake” should put me in the mindset of Mr. Benjamin Franklin, the thirteen original colonies, Don’t Tread on Me, that whole bit, right?
Nope. It really got me thinking about the black widow that’s trying to have four million babies in our compost bin.
Hi, in case ya didn’t know, my name’s Jamie, and I have ADD.
Anyway, about a week ago Benjamin called me outside to show me what was then a
“potential black widow”. First of all, black widows have big butts, I cannot lie. And they don’t look fuzzy like most Texas spiders, they’re kinda shiny like a beetle. This mamasita had webbed herself onto the hinge of the lid, which made it very hard to see her belly, but there was a definite red spot there. She was now an “official black widow”. With about 6 egg sacs, so four million babies may be slightly underestimated. She is clearly trying to kill us. I’ve seen arachnaphobia, I know how this works and I REFUSE to die in the shower, or from putting on my house shoes. I love my house shoes.
The thing is, Benjamin and I like insects. We almost never kill them and when we do it’s an accident and we apologize to the dead creature for accidentally smushing them into oblivion (Don’t judge, june bugs are cute, but dumb and unpredictable). And now we have a black widow in our composter leaving us in a bit of a moral dilemma.
A. Kill the spider, and all the compost, with bleach and fire. This should prevent any arachnaphobia-esque scenarios. Cry in the bathroom for being a heartless murderer, of spiders, and compost worms. (Seriously, we dug up ALOT of worms for that compost, it took forever. So. Much. Work. So many bananas.)
B. Put galoshes on hands, wrap with duct tape, open composter, scoop spider up in bowl with eggs. Kill with bleach. Cry in the bathroom for being a heartless murderer of spiders.
C. Put galoshes on hands, wrap with duct tape, open composter, scoop spider into bowl with eggs, duct tape into a box, carry her to the greenbelt, and dump her and her posse out in the middle of the field. Continue to check composter for possible future invasion. No heartless murder on the rap sheet. Still…possible future invasion. Of four million black widows.
D. Leave black widow and posse alone. More than possibly die of spider invasion when it gets cold and they decide to move into the house.
Honestly, none of these is a very appealing option. I need a way to not have a horrific spider death on my hands, and also not even remotely die from the inevitable horde of creatures preparing to be birthed from the container sitting ever so close to the house. I don’t know how quickly spiders hatch, but Benjamin and I have been sitting on this issue for a week, I think it’s time for a little intervention.
So, I’m going to have a scotch while you guys come up with a plan. Aaaaand suggestions….GO!!