I never kill spiders because that's what DH is there for.

There was a spider egg on the ceiling I'd overlooked in cleaning. It had hatched, and there were dozens of tiny paratroopers rapelling down from the ceiling.

never stops screaming

agrees

There was a spider egg on the ceiling I'd overlooked in cleaning. It had hatched, and there were dozens of tiny paratroopers rapelling down from the ceiling.

Had this been my apartment, fire might have been involved shortly afterward.

Pete traps spiders and takes them outside.

I stand on a chair and try not to scream.

If there is a spider in the house when Pete is not home, I call my Dad. Yes, I am a big, big wuss.

Had this been my apartment, fire might have been involved shortly afterward.

AquaNet and a lighter. Pete was horrified when I told him about that trick.

I never kill spiders because that's what DH is there for.

Yes. I seldom kill them myself, but I'm all for killing them. If they want to live, they can get their own darned house.

When I was working at Mass General, an IR contractor who was sharing my office caught a moth in an envelope, walked to the elevator, rode downstairs, and set the moth free outside. I don't really want to be that respectful of life.

Last week, I went into the bathroom at work and found a spider hanging from the ceiling in front of one of the stalls.

It died of paper towel crushage a few seconds later. I figured it was better I do it than that I force someone who's really freaked by them to deal with it, so it was a humanitarian act.

(But still one that I would much rather have not had to perform. Isn't it bad luck to kill a spider, or something like that?)

AquaNet and a lighter. Pete was horrified when I told him about that trick.

I only use that on roaches. And only if they fly. And really only if the hairspray by itself fails to stick their little wings together so they plummet.

I never kill spiders because I am deeply, deeply imprinted with the belief that this is very bad luck. I don't know if it came from Charlotte's Web or Greek myth or a folktale or straight out of my preschool ass, but it's been a central arachnid truth in my brain for as long as I can remember.

So I do a lot of trapping - plastic tumbler, postcard, shaken out the window. Or I used to. The apartment in Berkeley was rather spiderful. The apartment in San Francisco, NSM, which is unfortunate, because instead we have mosquitos. Nasty little fuckers. Them, I kill, in the firm belief that it's not only not bad luck, but that every mosquito dead by my hand is another jewel in the crown I'll wear in heaven. Nasty little fuckers.

Although moths are pretty gross when you squish them.