Countryside's Dirty Secret

When I pictured life in the countryside, I imagined open skies, peaceful mornings, and maybe the odd cow grazing in a field. What I didn’t picture?  The spiders.

And not just the odd one in the corner. I’m talking entire bloodlines of spiders. Multi-generational beasts who believe this house was built for them.

Varied and Thriving

There are two types.

First: the massive, chunky spiders. You know the ones. The kind that don’t crawl — they thud. Big legs. Bigger attitude. You spot one on the wall and suddenly it’s their room now. You’re just passing through.

Then: the long-legged ones — These ones are deceptive. Innocent, even.
But don’t be fooled — they multiply. You’ll deal with one, think it’s over, and then suddenly there’s another one. Then three... And I fear this cycle will continue until I die. 

They’re like countryside glitter: you will never get rid of them.

They’re in the porch. They’re behind the bathroom bin. They’ve even shown up inside my car — which I thought was neutral ground?! That's the closest I’ve come to considering arson.

Hoover First, Ask Questions Never

Look, I’ve heard of the “just catch and release them!” crew. Lovely idea in theory.
But in practice? I am not leaning into the corner behind the toilet to gently coax Satan's soldier into a pint glass. There is only so much a Townie can take.

I am a spider hooverer.

No jars and paper. Just a Dyson and blind fear.

And yes, I know some people will say that’s “cruel” or “unnecessary” or that I’m disrupting the local ecosystem. And all that may be true. But until one of them starts unloading the dishwasher, they're not staying.

Now, would I ever empty said hoover after one of my removal sessions? Absolutely not.

I will yeet the whole machine into the bin before I open it. That is now a sealed tomb of horror.

What’s in there? Nobody needs to know, ESPECIALLY me.

James: Braver Than Me... Just.

You’d think spiders wouldn’t be a big deal to a farmer used to all kinds of indescribable farm horrors.

Plot Twist: James doesn't like them either.

Let’s get one thing straight, James is a farmer to his very core.
He handles heavy machinery daily. He herds livestock. He works in all weathers. He’s strong, capable, unfazed. When you imagine a farmer, you're imagining my James. But we're on equal grounding where spiders are concerned.

To be fair, he deals with big bois.
He’ll do the classic sigh-and-roll-eyes combo, followed by what looks like a moment of internal crisis behind the eyes. But he does them, for me. And the smaller ones, I'll hoover them.

That’s called teamwork, right?