Dear Spiders et al
I think I’ve been pretty patient up til now, but I’ve had enough. I can’t take your constant presence in my life any more – particularly on these summer days, be they hot and humid or wet and muggy. It doesn’t really seem to matter whatever the weather, you’re always there. And enough is enough.
Could you please decide where you would like to be: inside or outside! I’m pretty sure that you’d prefer it outside. You’d have to take your chances with birds and other predators, but you wouldn’t risk death by vacuum, Nutella jar or being trodden on. (I’m looking at you in particular on that one, slugs – I accept that it must be worse for you to meet a sticky end, squished by a giant Python-esque foot, but it’s really never pleasant for me either and you do such a good job of surprising me with your presence it’s always too late.)
I would be pretty much happy to leave you to get on with catching and eating each other outside. As it is I’m wary of any sort of bush as there’s inevitably a web running across it with a damn great spider sat in the middle. Or a host of aphids trundling along stems and leaves. Or gnats swarming en masse ready for their pound of flesh.
I’m happy to stick to wide open spaces for my own personal space. I don’t need to shove my head into bushes and trees. A patch of grass, or even paving, that’s fine. Much as I don’t go swimming with sharks and have thus far found that they’ve completely left me alone, if I don’t intrude on your patch, I don’t expect you to intrude on mine. And as such, although I’m happy to sacrifice pretty much all foliage for your use I’d appreciate it if you could leave the plastic chairs and play equipment alone. If it’s man made then it should be considered out if bounds.
But mostly, for the love of God, please please leave the house to us. Apparently you’re never more than three feet away from a spider. No kidding! From the webs that hang from the coving, the shelf by the kitchen sink, from door frames, in the fireplace and under tables, you are literally everywhere.
I mean, thank you for getting rid of flies and all, but if they went into the garden then couldn’t you too? Instead of lurking under the skirting board and in the kitchen cupboards and crawling from bedding. I mean, seriously, what’s wrong with you? Creep up on us like that and you’re just asking to be crushed. Can that many of you really be suicidal
And we know you must be laughing at us as you make your way across the wall or ceiling towards us. Always TOWARDS us. You know we’re thinking ‘You’re going to fall. You’re going to fall RIGHT ON TOP OF ME! Right on top of me WHILST I SLEEP!!!‘ Even though we sort of know you’re not. Unless we’ve looked up ‘spider horror stories’ on Google. Then we’ll be 100% convinced you’re just waiting to fall into our open, slumbering mouths.
I was once told that you spiders have to stop walking as they make their way across the floor/wall/ceiling/bath tub because you can’t both walk and breathe at the same time. But I don’t buy it. More like you can’t walk and taunt us at the same time.
Does it feel like I’m picking on you, spiders? Believe me, I’m not. You silverfish, with your preference for kitchen skulking and your wriggling ways can go away too. And slugs, what is it with our house? On a wet night you’d think we were the epicentre for a zombie slug apocalypse – masses of you slowly zoning in on our house. Possibly they’re truly the undead souls of Slugfest 1997, in which a tub of salt and the drunken antics of my parents and the neighbours left our garden the scene of a slug massacre, I plead my innocence on that one, so please now leave us alone.
I honestly think you should take your cue, all of you, from bees and butterflies. They don’t want to be trapped inside a house. As soon as they’re in they’re gasping to get out again. That’s just as it should be. Although a heads up, you guys – and flies too – no matter how’s my times you bang into it you’re NEVER going to get through the invisible force field that is glass.
Oh, and although it’s too late now, I’d like to clarify that I was trying to help the flying beetle type thing out of the patio door rather than into the web of that spider. I’m really sorry. The spider must have thought it was its lucky day having home deliveries made for lunch, but I really didn’t mean it to be that way. If it’s any consolation your death looked quick, if not painless. That spider was onto you like a shot! But then again, if you’d just stuck to being outside I wouldn’t have tried to help you out.
I’m really not going to change my mind on this matter. No matter how many times I’m subjected to the over-excited shriekings of Jess on CBeebies, I won’t be swayed. ‘Feelers out. What’s about?’ Believe me, I really don’t want to know!
But what I just want to do is to be able to open a window and let some air in without the invitation extending to any and all bug life. In the words of Johnny in Dirty Dancing, ‘This is my space, this is your space.’ Now, GET OUT OF MY SPACE and stop putting spiders in the corner!!!
I’ll let you continue to have complete access to all campers however. There is nothing so hideous as waking in your sleeping bag to find yourself joined by all manner of six-legged life forms, but at the same, those who can’t be bothered to have paid for walls as part of their deal on holiday have really just brought it on themselves.
Bugs, you’re welcome. Now, do we have a deal? (Please say we have a deal!)
(at least for now – fail me on this and it will be WAR ON BUGS!)