Kim and I were at the office way too late this evening. I know because at around 9:00 I glanced down at the floor by my desk to find the largest spider I have ever seen that wasn’t in a cage. Its leg-span had to be equal to the diameter of a pop can, and it wasn’t the skinny variety of arachnid, either; it was some kind of wolf spider or grass spider, or you know what, I don’t care. I don’t consider myself afraid of spiders, but like most people, I have my reasons for avoiding Australia.
“Ah!” That’s panic for me. I’m only so excitable.
“What is that?” Kim asked as he squinted in disbelief.
“It’s a big, frickin’ spider. What do we do?” I didn’t want to step on it. God, what if it lived? It would want vengeance. It hadn’t even moved, and I was already worrying it would take someone hostage.
“Don’t have one.” How could we be so unprepared? We were just going to have to burn the building down.
We stared at it for several, long minutes, speculating on how it got there, how dangerous it was (at that size, it didn’t matter). We debated throwing a shoe at it, but we’d’ve probably just been giving it ammunition. Besides, some species jump, and as Kim admitted, “It doesn’t matter if it bites or not. If a spider that big touches me, I will die.”
Kim finally ran out to the break room and grabbed an empty foil tray to trap it in. Then he asked me if he should toss it in the trash or what. I told him no, because the lid was just going to come loose, and then we’d have a monster spider waiting to pounce on the next person to approach the break room trashcan. We settled on throwing it in the dumpster outside, because neither of us was willing to pop the lid off when a miniature tarantula might make a flying leap for our faces.
I know it’s probably already gotten out, crawled out of the dumpster, and wandered off somewhere, but I’m still personally grateful that I rarely have to take any garbage out at the office. And I think I’m going to start carrying a baseball bat and a blowtorch to work.