I’m giving a warning to this one as it is truly gross so if you are a delicate little flower, you might not want to go any further.

It’s Autumn and this is my favourite season; I love all things Autumn except for one thing – the 8-legged freaks which feel free to pop up unannounced and expect you to be happy about it.

I have had 2 encounters in the past week which have put my resolve to deal with these things on my own, to the test.

The first one was on the kitchen ceiling and I was doing well coaching it to a place where I could get it into a jar and then dispose of it outside (don’t care if they are ‘house’ variety, they can buy their own).

Problem was, he decided to land on the floor and go under the kitchen door into the hall. Lost. Not good. I need to know where they are so a hunt ensued.

I found him after tearing the hall apart and eventually we had a show-down on the bookcase. I don’t know why or how really but somehow I managed to flick him towards the cupboard door in the hall – which was slightly ajar. Lost again. I didn’t tear that cupboard apart as it’s too creepy at the best of times. I sprayed my peppermint water around hoping that would give the ‘stay where you are’ signal.

He came out a few days later and I managed to catch him and release.

The other one didn’t work out so well.

I saw him on the wall in the living room, as soon as I had switched on the lights. I went to get a jar (weapon of choice) and came back. Lost it. Conversation with Husband went something like this:

Me: “Didn’t you keep an eye on it?”

Husband: “Didn’t know I was supposed to.”

17 years – he should know by now.

So out comes the peppermint water again, trying to lure him out. I was pretty sure he’d gone behind a picture. Couldn’t find him. Not good.

In the evenings, I usually sit at the table at the ‘dining/home-school’ end of the living room and I’ve taken to resting my feet on a ledge so they are not on the floor for obvious reasons. Seeing Scooby dive under the table, obviously hunting something down and then losing it, didn’t help me feel more comfortable.

This went on for a few nights.

Then the other morning, we got up and I headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Husband decided to go into the sitting room for his own version of coffee – one is made the previous evening and he has it cold in the morning. Personally I find the thought of it pretty gross but he likes it so who am I to complain.

Just as I’m getting the cups prepared, Husband comes tearing out the living room and out the back door. Now I would like to point out this is quite a feat for him considering all the health problems he has.

I obviously rush to the door to see what’s wrong and find him throwing up outside. Now I’m in a slight panic because he must be ill and my mind starts racing.

He comes back in, a little shaken and green and I ask him what’s wrong? What happened?

The conversation went something like this:

Husband: “I found your little friend”.

Me: “Where?”

Husband: “I drank him”.

Normally when Husband leaves his coffee out overnight he puts a coaster on the top – he had forgotten to do this on this occasion and it turns out 8 legged freaks like caramel flavoured instant coffee. Coasters are now mandatory, under and on top of all cups.

You want to know what makes this story even worse? This isn’t even the first time this has happened to my Husband!