Kindness
So there I was, in the shower, washing off the sweat and dust of a most enjoyable mountain bike ride, when I realised that I was not alone.
No, the Horse Doctor hadn't come home from work and decided to slip into the water with me. We don't do that sort of thing around here. And even if we did, we certainly wouldn't tell you about it. What was prickling my sixth sense was a small, dark, blurry dot moving frantically around the plughole. I can't see well without my glasses, and I can't see well with them in the shower, so I had to bend down to see what it was. Closer inspection revealed it to be one of these:
this one isn't in the bath
I wasn't too worried, since it was almost smaller than my big toe. Also, when I had the shower fitted over the bath, I made sure it was at the head end, rather than the tap end. Partly because the window cuts into the area that would be the tile splashback for a standing shower, and partly because I hate showers placed over bath taps with a passion.* So I was standing at the far end of the bath, and I was fairly confident the spider would be able to keep out of the flow until I had finished.
Most spiders can survive quite well being washed away in cold water. It's hot, and particularly hot and soapy, that kills them. It's well worth remembering if you're the type to try and wash spiders away,** that you need to use hot water, and the hotter the better. Most spiders also know to keep away from large, moving things.
Not so this one. It obviously took a dislike to my cleanliness habit and decided to come and have it out with me, making its way up the bath along the rain shadow formed by the shower curtain. There was no alternative but to bend down, scoop it up in my hastily rinsed hand and drop it out over the side onto the bathroom floor.
Job done, I returned to suds and shampoo, followed by the painful but necessary ice-cold bit at the end. Finally, clean and lovely once more,*** I pulled back the curtain and stepped out onto the mat, reaching for the towel hanging off the back of the door.
Crunch.
Ah well, I tried. Some animals are just too stupid to survive.
* it's impossible to keep the taps clean. Likewise I hate having the control for the shower underneath the shower head - again impossible to keep clean, and you have the added bonus of that jet of icy water all over your morning outstretched hand as you try to turn the damned thing on.
** which I'm not, obviously.
*** well, one out of two isn't bad.
No, the Horse Doctor hadn't come home from work and decided to slip into the water with me. We don't do that sort of thing around here. And even if we did, we certainly wouldn't tell you about it. What was prickling my sixth sense was a small, dark, blurry dot moving frantically around the plughole. I can't see well without my glasses, and I can't see well with them in the shower, so I had to bend down to see what it was. Closer inspection revealed it to be one of these:
this one isn't in the bathI wasn't too worried, since it was almost smaller than my big toe. Also, when I had the shower fitted over the bath, I made sure it was at the head end, rather than the tap end. Partly because the window cuts into the area that would be the tile splashback for a standing shower, and partly because I hate showers placed over bath taps with a passion.* So I was standing at the far end of the bath, and I was fairly confident the spider would be able to keep out of the flow until I had finished.
Most spiders can survive quite well being washed away in cold water. It's hot, and particularly hot and soapy, that kills them. It's well worth remembering if you're the type to try and wash spiders away,** that you need to use hot water, and the hotter the better. Most spiders also know to keep away from large, moving things.
Not so this one. It obviously took a dislike to my cleanliness habit and decided to come and have it out with me, making its way up the bath along the rain shadow formed by the shower curtain. There was no alternative but to bend down, scoop it up in my hastily rinsed hand and drop it out over the side onto the bathroom floor.
Job done, I returned to suds and shampoo, followed by the painful but necessary ice-cold bit at the end. Finally, clean and lovely once more,*** I pulled back the curtain and stepped out onto the mat, reaching for the towel hanging off the back of the door.
Crunch.
Ah well, I tried. Some animals are just too stupid to survive.
* it's impossible to keep the taps clean. Likewise I hate having the control for the shower underneath the shower head - again impossible to keep clean, and you have the added bonus of that jet of icy water all over your morning outstretched hand as you try to turn the damned thing on.
** which I'm not, obviously.
*** well, one out of two isn't bad.
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