You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The spider house.
The woman is upset. She has every right to be upset.
There are brown recluse spiders in her light fixture. Most are dead. One is still alive, moving around in the silhouette of the light.
“It’s so gross,” she says almost folding in half with angst. “I just want them out of here.”
I look at the sticky traps she has all around her apartment.
I pick one up and hold it carefully by the edges.
I feel the stickiness of the glue as I look inside the cardboard box.
There are spiders, perhaps four of them.
They are newly caught, and have yet to start decomposing.
I see their spidery thin legs, and their bulbous eyes, and something that looks like teeth that bite.
They are ugly, evil, like a lanced boil on satan’s ass.
“I was on the phone, getting dressed, and I looked down and saw one climbing up my chest,” the woman says, remembering the incident as if it had just happened.
She will tell me that she has complained and complained to management.
“They’ve sprayed twice, and still they are back,” she laments.
“I saw one in my daughter’s bed,” she bemoans.
I can see the physical anguish on her face. She is distraught.
“I just feel like I’m itching everywhere,” she adds.
I go to the management firm and try and get some resolution.
“what are you doing about it?” I kindly ask.
The Chief Operating Officer is a nice man who is not initially happy with my line of questioning.
But the man is a corporate leader and he realizes that showing me a smile and promoting good customer relations is going to win this battle in the end.
So he tells me that they have sprayed twice, and they didn’t realize the problem had persisted, but thanks to us, they will now spray again.
I shake his hand.
I appreciate his attitude.
I tell the woman of this development.
“Thank god,” She says staring at the light fixture with the arachnid scooting around.
She turns off the light. The imagery of the spiders disappears but we all know they are still there.
I am pleased to leave her home. I scratch in places that don’t really itch.
I can’t imagine pulling back the sheets and inspecting for insects.
I am glad I get to leave. I hope that the spiders leave soon.