Reason #87 Why I Need A Husband

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Generally I really like living alone. I like that anything left in the sink I put there, so I can’t get the shits with anyone for it but me. I like watching Kardashians really loud. I like that I never shut my bathroom door unless there is company here. I do hate that someone keeps forgetting to fill the ice cube trays, but whatevs…

I like living alone so much that I sometimes worry that if I actually do find a man that I’d like to cohabitat with, no scratch that, I’m trying to start the year off being more positive. WHEN I find him, I worry that we’ll need a REALLY big house so I have my own space. He better keep the ice cube trays filled though.

Last night was not a night that I loved living alone though. At 12:45am (ok this morning), I had been in the bath tub for over two hours engrossed in the Kyle Sandilands book (I know, I know….it’s a wonder why I’m single huh) which I was reading on my iPhone in the dark with some candles burning. Yep, I can stay in that bath for hours on end but due to a new year health kick, I wasn’t even drinking wine!!

Anyhoo, it was all very relaxing, until out of the corner of my eye I see a huge spider run down the wall into the shower cubicle next to the bath tub. Thankfully. If it had run down the bath side of the wall next to me I think I would have just drowned myself to end the torment.

I get out of the bath as quietly as I can to avoid the spider working out that I was onto him and I run to the kitchen to get some bug spray. The good stuff is outside in my courtyard thanks to a prior redback spider incident (fuck why does everything try to kill you in Australia?!?) so I’m left with subpar equipment for my emergency situation.

I run back to the bathroom and the spider is still in the same spot. Whoo! Although I’m concerned about creating a fireball with the spray from the candles, I worry if I blow them out and turn the light on that it will shock the spider and it will explode with thousands of babies. On my face. And then my face melts off. Hey, it happens, I’ve seen Arachnophobia you know. So I spray shitloads of bug spray at it on the wall, it drops to the floor and crawls out under the showers door.

Spprrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!

It stops. Ahhhh I did it. No, it then runs right at me toward the ensuite door leading into my bedroom. Not on my watch!!

Spprrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!

I put a white coating all over the bathroom floor tiles as he runs. It stops at the edge of the tiles. Phew.

But then runs straight at me again. He seems to be taking this very personally…

Spprrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!

It stops in the corner of the door frame and looks like it will crawl up and die so I rush to the wardrobe to get some shoes to smash it and end the drama. Sorry PETA but one simply cannot sleep in a house with a spider that size and I’m CLEARLY too much of a girl to have been able to catch him and re-home him outside.

In my haste I’ve grabbed my Crocs sandals. Stop it. I know what you’re thinking. That is not the reason why I’m single. They are not those Croc clogs things everyone (including me) hate. They are like thongs, but really comfy and kinda strappy and no one ever knows they are even Crocs ok….shut up your face.

The spider is STILL moving and I’m too much of a wuss to get close, so I try throwing my Croc at it but I totally miss and the stupid rubber shoe just bounces back at me anyway. So if it did hit it, it would probably have thrown the spider at me with it…and exploded babies…on my face.

After more spray it finally curls up on the carpet in the middle of my doorway.

R.I.P.

I run and get a heavy glass mixing bowl from the kitchen which I placed over the carcass to contain him until the morning.

Feeling proud of myself for being so cool, calm and collected in dealing with the situation, I step over the bowl into the bathroom to let the bath water out and brush my teeth. But I hit the slippery floor where I’ve sprayed the bug spray, skid along the tiles, smash my shoulder into the door frame and twist my knee recovering.

Fuck. My. Life.

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