A Mexican standoff

For the past 48 hours a Huntsman Spider has set up residency for itself in our bathroom. I am no arachnophobic –having to live in the land of dangerous animals, I am kind of impervious to them – but there’s just something about these guy’s black, cotton wool eyes that makes me want to gag. Adam says, “Just spray the damn thing” but watching it twitch and convulse on the floor, with its legs contracting back onto themselves in death, is worse in my mind. It didn’t do anything to me, they're not poisonous and usually they move on after a spell, so I’ve had the ‘live and let live’ motto foremost in my head. But soon it will have to go because it is starting to play on my conscience. I might be feeling bad about something and this spider looms over me like God, or my guilt (you say tomato, I say…) For example, this morning, Keira was prattling for going on an hour about something and I was, “Princess charm? Princess clock? Perfect Time? Keira, I CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU!” Both of us exhausted, I eventually figured out she wanted her Princess Crown down out of the cupboard. Oh, right. So feeling totally useless as a mother, I go into the bathroom to use the toilet, and there’s this Huntsman, looming over me, squirming in glee (I’m sure) at my failures. Pest Exterminator time.