Last night, while letting the dog out before bed, I was thinking over an idea for my blog post. Maybe something about my writing process, except my process seems more like a series of excuses for my procrastination before writing fast and hard to meet a deadline. So I was in the midst of coming up with something else when I grabbed the leash for the dog from the hook next to the door. And then I felt it, or maybe I should say felt them.
My arm had disturbed a freshly spun web over the leash hook. And when I say disturbed, I mean went right through it and knocked loose the bigass spider sitting there, waiting for its next meal to come along. I think it even had teeth.
I screeched something unintelligible and jumped back, jerking the poor dog with me. As tempting as it was the shove the dog at the spider, who was busy hauling its creepy ass up the wall I'd bumped into when I realized what happened, I didn't think it could be all that healthy for her to eat a spider that big.
Dragging the dog with me (couldn't let her outside loose when I'd just that morning discovered a raccoon had taken up residence next door), I went inside.
A lot of authors say there's a little bit of themselves in every heroine they write. Well, I can tell you what bit of myself is not in any of my heroines. None of them are afraid of bugs. Most of my heroines kick ass and take names every day of the week. They face murderers, assassins, demons and stubborn alpha males on a regular basis. There's no way any of them would freak over a spider.
So damn it, there was no way I was going to let a stupid spider chase me off, no matter how many teeth it had. Not when it might spin its web of death across the door the next night and lay in wait for me.
Instead of getting my husband, which I'm sure he would have just loved, I grabbed his shoe (it's the biggest) and went back outside. I'm not sure how far spiders can jump, but I kept as much distance between us as I could and whacked the spider. Of course, some people might equate whacking as going batshit crazy, but let's not worry about them.
Once I scraped what was left of the spider off the bottom of my husband's shoe, I stood up, basking in the high from my spider slaying. Which is where I went wrong. I got cocky. Planning to head inside and tell my husband how I saved him the effort by killing the spider myself, I whipped around.
And came face to face with the June Bug stuck to the glass. Right at eye-level.
If the light had been on when I went outside the first time, I wouldn't have missed it. Not that knowing that did me a damn bit of good in the moment. The only thing standing between me and my safe, insect-free house, was a clicking, flying beetle that was going to end up stuck on my hair. Because that's what they do.
Stick. In. Your. Hair.
Knowing I had only seconds before the June Bug (who I'm pretty sure had teeth too) noticed I was there, I lifted my arm to whack it with my husband's shoe. Unfortunately, since my door hadn't been shut tight, I knew I had just one chance to deliver a death blow, and I couldn't miss. Otherwise the door was going to fly open and that bug was going to be IN my house and then I'd really be in trouble.
Closing my eyes(okay, I kept one open) I killed it on the first strike. And thank god, because I would have gone to bed with the covers over my head and left the bug slaying to my stubborn, alpha-male husband.
So what about you? Any crazy bug stories or particular creepy crawlies that freak you out?