Laying on the bottom long list of Reasons It's Harder to Be Single Girl In Africa is: changing lightbulbs . . . . highest on the list: sharing an apartment with the dregs of God's creation.
That's right, I am, once again, talking about the Creepy-Crawlies.
I mean, really! I know this is prime climate for so many of the grossest-things-to-squirm-this-earth, but come on! I have locks on the doors for a reason! And while I can, on occasion, overlook the friendly mosquito-eatting gecko that sneaks through a crack in the wall, I do NOT appreciate showering with a long-legged, big bottomed SPIDER.
In the midst of my routine morning scrub-a-dub-dub I found myself covered in suds, standing in puddle OUTSIDE of the tub . . . armed with a can of insecticide.
I had been minding my own business, mid rinse-and-repeat . . . when suddenly my solitary sanctuary was cruelly interrupted by the arrival of a most unwanted and uninvited visitor.
Without thinking, I ripped open the shower curtain, jumped onto the cement floor and switched the shower stream to the faucet. I wasn't sure if Spidey's huge back end would fit down the drain . . . but it did . . . only, with two hairy long legs, he held on for dear life. Using the rubber tub-stopper, I loosened his grip, and he was gone.
Relieved to have been rid of him so easily, I shut off the water and began to climb back into the tub.
But, knowing how this story usually goes around these parts, I kept a careful eye on the drain.
(cue dramatic background music)
Just as I was about to swing my first leg in, one long hairy arm shot out of the drain as Spidey flailed about to grab onto anything non-slippery. Hooking the edge of the metal drain cover, he used his super strength to lift himself from near-drowning.
It was at that point that I remembered why it could be handy to have a hubby . . . no girl likes cleaning spider guts from her shower floor. And since there was no way this girl was going to wash the shampoo out of her hair in the company of eight extra legs, I reached for the can of insecticide I keep stashed under the sink, for moments such as these.
I'm always amazed at how quickly such a giant beast can shrivel up and die . . . but am greatly relieved to have watched his corps wash away for good!
Now, if only this would be a lesson to the rest of his kind: I'm armed . . . and all trespassers will be sprayed on sight!