In the corner of our door outside, sure enough, sat a black widow. John had on boots but couldn't reach it with his boots. The last thing we needed was to scare this thing off..or worse..scare it into the house with the boys. I know how much John hates spiders. He even convinced his mom to knock down what was thought to be a spider's nest (turned out to just be a dirt clump). So I let John go to bed. I told him I would kill the spider.
ONE OF THE MOST TERRIFYING EXPERIENCES IN MY LIFE.
John said he had seen it yesterday, presumably on his way to work. I thought it must already be dead if it was still sitting there. It kinda LOOKED dead. I was hoping. Didn't make the idea of making SURE it was dead any easier. I finally decided on a stick to poke it with. That got it shoved up under the door. I opened the door. Thankfully it wasn't running anywhere, but it didn't look dead. It looked more alive. I finally saw it in all it's glory. Long legs, great view of that infamous hourglass, and perfectly round belly. I grabbed one of John's army boots and started beating the thing to death. I got it quite flat and then watched as a leg moved. REALLY?! It's at this point I start crying out to God, "Why, oh WHY did you make black widows?!?!" I'm sure He was laughing. I pounded the spider a bit more to make sure it was dead.
Knowing a spider's ability to raise from the dead, I went into the kitchen to grab some Basic G to bury it in. This is my household germicide. And although not a proven or recommended spider killer, it surely could do more harm than good to this awful creature.
So now it lies outside. Flat and wet. I hope it's dead. Though chances are, I will return to the burial site and try to "kill" it some more.
But I just wanted you all to rest easy today, knowing there is one less black widow spider roaming the earth.
And I want my medal. I'll just give it to myself. I don't care if it is from Nova Scotia. It says "bravery" on it.