Last night, 10:00 pm: I got home as usual, petted my cat, and went upstairs to change my shirt. As I pulled on the clean shirt, I noticed something dangling from my glasses on an invisible line. I figured it was a spider. It was. Sometimes this happens, that a little spider dangles from my glasses; not frequently, but a couple times in my life. I lifted it by the string to look at it--it was teeny tiny, smaller than the eye of a potato--and then I killed it.
12:14-ish am: I was in my room, on the internet, when I felt something on my arm. Can you guess what it was? Another spider, same size and species. I killed it.
1:10-ish am: I went into the bathroom, and while I was contemplating the mysteries of the universe, up from the side of the sink crept an enormous ugly spider. Actually, as far as spiders go it wasn't all that bad looking, but on principle, it was ugly. I made a noise and ran to my room to grab a slipper, as that is my preferred killing method: the shoe. I approached the spider cautiously, then SMASH! I killed it. It may have been the same kind of spider as all the little ones, but I am not positive.
2:00-ish am: I was beginning my stretches as usual, when I noticed something dangling from a strand of my hair. For real? I thought. What is going on? I did not stop to observe this spider, I merely killed it.
At that point, I was alarmed. It's not unusual for me to get a spider in my room once or twice a year. But four spiders in one night? And three of them itty bitty babies? There was only one logical explanation: egg sac. Some thoughtful spider had laid an egg sac somewhere near my room, which had burst open finally, and now I was being invaded. It was time to get serious.
I took my trusty can of bug spray and sprayed around in the corners and along the bottoms of the walls of the room. Anya, at the first puff of bug spray, grew terrified and dashed out of the room. Go figure. Normally she likes eating spiders, but I didn't have time to let them grow up to a size she could see (she is sometimes not so observant).
Then, as I was thinking about the spiders I'd seen, I realized that they had all come (with the exception of the big one) from the ceiling.
Aha! I thought. That is where I will search next.
2:30-ish am: With a flashlight in one hand and a tissue in the other (babies can escape the shoe, but not the tissue), I walked around the room, shining the light on the ceiling, looking for culprits. I found a surprising number of specimens, at least a dozen, all just sitting in place on the ceiling. One was sitting on my lamp. I killed them all (except for the one who made a daring jump to avoid my capture; that one was smarter than the rest, and could also be living in my pajamas now).
I also inspected any items in my room that were close to the ceiling, or at least higher than the floor. My music stand sits near my bookshelves, and had some spider threads running around it. My peperomia was also a popular spot for the budding spiderlings to cast their aspiring lines. Cursed spiders.
To ensure the death of all spiders, both today and in the next two months*, I sprayed the ceiling liberally with bug spray. Luckily the window was open and the fan was on, but all the same, it was not a pleasant scent. I folded down my blanket so I could see any spiders more easily against the stark whiteness of my sheet. Leaving the bug spray to do its thing, I visited the bathroom once more.
2:45-ish: Returning to my room, I flashed the light around the ceiling, but found no spiders. I examined my bed, and was happy to find two tiny dead winged things there (gnats, I suppose). The bug spray was working. Excellent.
3:00-ish (but actually it was later): I went to bed. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh...
I've found no spiders in my room so far this morning, and hope it remains that way. If they do dare to show up though, you know what I will do: I will kill them.
*I am being kicked out of my lovely home and therefore only care about my house for the next two months. Our landlord let us know that he is planning on moving in come October, so we need to be out by then. He'd warned us when he first took over the property that he was planning on doing that at some point, so it's not like it's some big surprise, but it still stinks.
Guess I better repair that hole in my wall.