There is a spider in my bath tub. Brown, about an inch in diameter including the legs.
The moment of discovery happened when I was brushing my teeth and at the same time reaching across the bath tub to get my facial wash.
Shock. Adrenaline. Freeze response.
In my lesser past, I would have, after the cursory freeze, jumped, screamed, violently dropped my electric toothbrush on the spider and swallowed toothpaste, all under a second.
It was only two years of spider-desensitisation training in England that prevented this most inconvenient mishap.
Yes, there are a lot of spiders in England and I’ve had to learn to put a lid on the drama.
Or maybe it’s only in Piers’ flat that there are a lot of spiders. I can’t say for sure. I think spiders love him because he is their knight in shining armor.
He rescues them from hyperventilating lunatics who hurl heavy toothbrushes at them. While at the same time pretending to be the gallant knight to the damsel in distress who is scared of bugs.
Men are skilled at taking accidental credit when one offers itself up. It’s in their DNA to ensure the survival of the alpha male ego.
But, seriously, I am convinced that Piers cares for bugs more than he does me, although he would never admit it. Look at this text exchange and tell me I’m wrong.
Like any knight in shining armor worthy of the holy grail, Piers has his sword and shield to champion his bugs. Except his sword is a cup (not at all holy) and his shield is a torn piece of cardboard.
The bug cup used to be our rice measuring cup but I banned it from re-entering the rice bin after he used it to rescue a moth. So the cup found itself a new job in the bug chivalry industry.
The torn piece of cardboard used to convey instructions for cooking a dish of slow cooked beef and three bean chilli in a rich tomato and chipotle sauce with rice. I suppose it still does that job but no one appreciates it in that role anymore.
It now serves as a roof to shelter destitute bugs until they can be released to the safe outdoors where deadly flying toothbrushes do not occur with alarming frequency.
Perhaps the cup and the cardboard enjoy their new, very noble jobs. Perhaps, perhaps.
It’s good to give our household items a fulfilling sense of purpose.
Piers, defender and saviour of bugs, I’m sure, is very fulfilled.
The spider in the bath tub.