Twenty-four -- and a tarantula
Twenty-four boxes, so I won't have them all done before I leave for the holidays, but they really are dwindling. Some of them are for Ed in the Basement, anway.
Yesterday morning, I found the tarantula again. I HOPE it's the same one! I managed to trap it under a coffee can, but I wasn't able to get it into the can so that I could take it outside. I had to leave as my carpool had arrived. I was in a right state, too. My heart was pounding, I was breathing hard, I was perspiring -- it was terrible. I also developed psychosomatic (I assume) symptoms. My hands began to itch horribly and they turned red and swelled up. I took some allergy meds and put cream on them and they returned to normal. I don't think I touched the tarantula, but I may have touched something it touched and I understand that their hairs are really the major irritant to most people as they rarely bite. Most South American tarantulas are poisonous to varying degrees, but I certainly was not bitten.
It doesn't matter that I know I'm bigger than it is by several orders of magnitude. It doesn't matter that I know it didn't harm me and that by trying to capture it I was increasing the likelihood it would try to harm me in self defense. It doesn't matter that I know it's good for keeping down the bug population. A phobia is a phobia and I can't keep myself from freaking out.
So, what happened? I mentioned to a colleague at work that we'd trapped it and he sent some of his people to my house to get it out of the house. They came over and teased the kids and laughed at us for not being able to rid ourselves of the 'menace'. Marilyn then took a shoe box and managed to scoop up the tarantula with the coffee can and plop it into the shoe box. She put air holes in the shoe box and inscribed the tarantula's new name, Fauntleroy, on the top. Yes, Fauntleroy. It's a family joke.
When I reached home, I was chagrined to find that it was still in the house alive. Matthew showed it to the neighbor kids, who were duly impressed and spoke of their own encounters with tarantulas in their homes. They wanted to keep it.
Sorry. I can't. I just can't. It cannot stay in the house. I told them to take it to school today and if the school doesn't have a terrarium to keep it and feed it, that they can release it in the fields there. Actually, as far as I'm concerned, that would be the best outcome. Fauntleroy could live and thrive, mate, whatever, just NOT IN MY HOUSE!
Yesterday morning, I found the tarantula again. I HOPE it's the same one! I managed to trap it under a coffee can, but I wasn't able to get it into the can so that I could take it outside. I had to leave as my carpool had arrived. I was in a right state, too. My heart was pounding, I was breathing hard, I was perspiring -- it was terrible. I also developed psychosomatic (I assume) symptoms. My hands began to itch horribly and they turned red and swelled up. I took some allergy meds and put cream on them and they returned to normal. I don't think I touched the tarantula, but I may have touched something it touched and I understand that their hairs are really the major irritant to most people as they rarely bite. Most South American tarantulas are poisonous to varying degrees, but I certainly was not bitten.
It doesn't matter that I know I'm bigger than it is by several orders of magnitude. It doesn't matter that I know it didn't harm me and that by trying to capture it I was increasing the likelihood it would try to harm me in self defense. It doesn't matter that I know it's good for keeping down the bug population. A phobia is a phobia and I can't keep myself from freaking out.
So, what happened? I mentioned to a colleague at work that we'd trapped it and he sent some of his people to my house to get it out of the house. They came over and teased the kids and laughed at us for not being able to rid ourselves of the 'menace'. Marilyn then took a shoe box and managed to scoop up the tarantula with the coffee can and plop it into the shoe box. She put air holes in the shoe box and inscribed the tarantula's new name, Fauntleroy, on the top. Yes, Fauntleroy. It's a family joke.
When I reached home, I was chagrined to find that it was still in the house alive. Matthew showed it to the neighbor kids, who were duly impressed and spoke of their own encounters with tarantulas in their homes. They wanted to keep it.
Sorry. I can't. I just can't. It cannot stay in the house. I told them to take it to school today and if the school doesn't have a terrarium to keep it and feed it, that they can release it in the fields there. Actually, as far as I'm concerned, that would be the best outcome. Fauntleroy could live and thrive, mate, whatever, just NOT IN MY HOUSE!