Killing with Kindness

After a bracing run round the park this morning, dodging all the nut-crazed squirrels, I stepped into the shower with not a minute to spare if I was to catch my train to work. Cue ‘Psycho’ shower scene music. Thankfully my horror wasn’t caused by the spouse wielding the breadknife, although I’m sure he’s been sorely tempted recently. No, it was worse. A teeny weeny spider was clinging to the plughole cover, and although I’m terrified of spiders, I don’t like to kill them. I usually make an escape ladder out of toilet paper (for the spider, not me) but there was no time for that this morning.

Another 50 gallons of hot water went down the drain while I decided on my strategy. Why I didn’t just turn the shower off is still a mystery, but after a while, I reached for the long-handled back brush and began fumbling about unsuccessfully in an attempt to entice Mr Spider to safety. “Go on, climb on to the bristles”, I said repeatedly as if he could hear me, but his ears were clearly full of water. Both of us got wetter and wetter until, worried that he was going to drown, I made a desperate lunge with the brush, and to my horror, accidentally crushed him to death instead.

My guilt at being an inadvertent spider murderer totally overshadowed the relief at finally being able to get into the shower, and I made a mental note to use a more delicate piece of rescue equipment next time.

 

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