A Py-uh Inawinnow

No, that's not English. It's Pepperese. And I could not for the life of me figure out what he was saying when he said "a py-uh inawinnow" this morning. I tried really hard, but I just could not understand his frantic little words. Eventually I went downstairs, and was stopped short by "a py-uh inawinnow"...A SPIDER IN THE WINDOW!

It is such a beautiful day here that Matt opened all the "winnows" in the house this morning to let in some fresh air. Yes, we do have screens, and yes, the screens are all intact and in place. This means that the "py-uh" perched on the INSIDE center of my living room screen did not come from outside. Of course, I didn't figure this out until later...

Debbie and I, giggling hysterically out of fear, tred to talk each other into smashing the giant. And a giant it was! That horrid brown beast of a spider was at least 3 inches long with a body the size of a quarter. He had darker brown markings and no hair. I couldn't distingush a violin shape on him, which is good. But I've also never seen a spider like him before, which for now is bad. Eventually, I took a deep breath, jumped forward, and closed the window, trapping the spider between the screen and the window. And then I called Galant Husband.

While Matt and I were discussing my spider extermination options, I realized the spider was gone. Debbie and I ventured closer to the window to see if we could figure out where he went. We could not see him anywhere between the window and the screen. Snapper and Pepper joined us at the window as we all cautiously looked around on the floor, pulling aside curtains in a vain attempt to find the invader. A fly chose that unfortunate moment to land on Debbie's cheek. When you have large brown spider on the brain, an unexpected touch on the face does not trigger a rational reaction.

Debbie screams (as only a Bertholic girl can scream) and jumps, slamming her shoulder into my elbow. I scream and jump, knocking over my unfortunate son. He screams and jumps up, literally climbing my legs to escape the "py-uh." Snapper screams and scrambles for the stairs, tripping and stumbling the whole way up to her room. Now that we're all a safe distance from the window, Debbie and I try to calm our wildly beating hearts. Pepper is clinging to my shirt and crying uncontrolably. Snapper is bawling in terror in the top bunk of her bed. Debbie is rubbing the large red spot my elbow made on her shoulder. I am shaking my arm, which has gone numb and tingly from Debbie's shoulder connecting with the nerve in my elbow. Still trembling from the adrenaline rush, Debbie and I look at each other and start laughing. We laugh until our sides ache. The whole thing was so sudden and silly, and the panic was so ridiculous and unnecessary.

At this point I'll add that while all of this took place, I was holding the phone to my ear. Poor Matt, who was taking a test for his Worship class, was treated to the sound of his screaming, panicking family. Poor guy! Once he was sure we are all still alive, he had a good laugh.

Eventually I gathered enough courage to look for the spider. I couldn't find him anywhere in the living room, so I began to hope he had found a hole in the screen and had returned to the great outdoors. I had to make sure or I knew I would be on edge for the rest of the day. So I put on Matt's flip flops. They're big enough so that none of my skin comes close to the edge of the sandal, which leaves my feet protected should I suddenly have to step on the monster. I cautiously cracked the front door and peeked out. No spider. I bravely stepped out onto the front porch, my eyes alert for any sign of movement. No spider. I tiptoed to the window and began to examine the screen. And then I see him. That ugly spider is still safely trapped between window and screen. There are no holes or tears in the screen. I breathe a sigh of relief, still shuddering at the thought of that thing loose in my house.

It took me 5 minutes to convinceSnapper it was safe to come out of her bed. It took me another 5 minutes to get Pepper to release his death grip on my shirt. And 30 minutes later, my skin was still prickling with heebie jeebies about that dumb py-uh inawinnow. And then it occurred to me...

...IF THERE'S NO HOLE IN MY SCREEN, THEN THAT THING STARTED OUT IN MY HOUSE!

So now what do I do? I have done a thorough search of my downstairs. I can't find any evidence of there being other spiders, except for a daddy longlegs in the corner of the downstairs bathroom. I even pulled the couch and chair away from the wall. Since I can't find them but I know that guy didn't appear out of thin air, it's time to call Terminix. Will I ever feel safe in my bed again?