ArachnoRoachoPhobia

Ok, so I have a little arachnophobia. Erin has cockroach-o-phobia. We split critter killing duties in our household.

First night in the new place, I'm unpacking a bag we had left with our lovely friend Hannah. I'm unpacking it, and as I pull out some tupperware, right there in the middle of the bag is a GIANT (dead) spider. Oooky. I scream like a girl, "ERIN!!! There's a big-ass dead spider in the bag and you have to do something about it!" At this point, I trust the whole ordeal will be taken care of by my hero.

A short time later, Erin mentions to me that I have a "target" to aim for when I pee. The water is out for the whole block, so Erin couldn't flush the spider down the drain. NO FREAKING WAY. This only makes things worse...much of my fear of spiders comes from this story I heard as a kid about some construction worker who went to use a port-o-john, and was bitten on the ass by a black widow...he subsequently died of the poison. I was traumatized by this story as a kid, and would always check under the toilet seat for my imminent death in spider form. I mean, come on, can any of you come up with a worse way to die? Poisoned and slumped over in a portable toilet (probably without any toilet paper no less?).

So Erin's placement of the carcass in the toilet did little for my mental health - I did NOT want to use the bathroom that day...

That night, we decided to try the restaurant across the street, the "Banana Leaf" restaurant (or "Banana Leafz" restaurant if you trust the sign out front). Banana Leaf specializes in over-priced, over-salted, unappetizing food with "unique" service strategy - the owner's wife constantly hovers over your table (we were the only folks in the place, a bad sign), while the food takes FOREVER to reach the table. Well, while at the restaurant, I made sure to use their rest room, in an effort to avoid the toilet at home. Whew!

Later that evening after we've returned home, I run into the kitchen to get some water, and as soon as I turn on the light, a MASSIVE cockroach runs along the wall. That roach was about three and a half inches - and THICK. The house hasn't been lived in for a while, so in the absence of human inhabitants, apparently other life forms have taken over. It is my turn to take responsibility for the trespasser...With a toss of the shoe and a second whack for good measure, the problem was solved. Erin called from the other room "What was THAT?" "You don't want to know," I replied. "Was it a roach??" "Yes, I have to find a broom to take care of it." "Or you could just let it stay over night, and hope the ants take care of it..." In our old place, the ants were pretty crafty, and would take care of dead roaches for us - it was quite the arrangment. I kill, they clean up.

I followed Erin's advice, in the hopes that our local ecosystem would right itself. Sadly, the ants and I haven't signed a treaty, and the roach stayed where it was for me to clean up the next morning.

So, after the late night excitement with the roach, Erin and I went to bed (around 11). At three a.m., I come the realization that I had not only paid for awful food, but also a late night "emergency." I jumped from the bed, hustled to the toilet, flipped the lid, and PRAYED that my stomach would settle itself. The last thing I wanted was that spider to reanimate and attack. How bad Erin would feel if she found me poisoned on the toilet the next morning! After a few seconds ruling out other options, I closed my eyes, sat on the seat, and gave in. The spider had beaten me...Round One: Spiders 1, Terry 0.