Oogyoogyoogyoogy!!!!

So we’re (I’ve just realized how many of my threads begin with, “So we’re” or “So I’m”) in the process of moving, and we need boxes. I’m a textbook sales rep, and since garages seem to be few and far between in SC, I work out of a storage unit. It appears to be a good idea to finally put up some steel shelves in the storage and bring the boxes home to pack with.

I head out to the storage unit with my shelves and my power screwdriver (grunt) to assemble and fill said shelves so that I can bring boxes home to fill with books, knick-knacks, crap we can’t bring ourselves to get rid of, and other assorted detritus. I open the garage-type door of the storage unit. I look down.

I see a lovely specimen of Black Widow flashing her hourglass at me.

Mind you, I’m not a wussy. Living in a house of women (wife, daughter, hamster, cat–the dog is the only other male, and he’s not, if you get my drift, completely macho), I am the designated bug-killer. But never in my life have I run across a critter that could possibly kill me. And not only is Mrs. Widow there, gnashing her fangs at me, but she has obviously committed arachnacide previously because there are two egg sacs in the web.

Spraying her with the ant-and-roach spray provided by the management of the mini-storage just pissed her off, but she ran out of the web long enough to get stomped. The egg sacs were then carried across the parking lot and mushed, both actions taken by an old cassette case.

My problem now, however, is that I keep feeling little critters crawling all over me. Is it my mind? Is it the ghosts of the little killers I mushed with the cassette case ("I feel dead spiders!)?

Either way, I won’t be returning to assemble the shelving for a couple of days until the exterminators spray all my books for deadly spiders.

Oooooogggggyyyyyy!

I forgot to mention that I know Mrs. Widow was a killer because, like many Springer guests, black widows kill the father of their children after impregnation.

Oh, stofsky, indeed ooogy, but black widow bites aren’t necessarily fatal! And like most spiders, they do a good job of controlling other insects! Read more about them here: UC-Davis

:frowning:

~Ellen, spider lover

Also, they don’t always kill the male spider, but frequently enough for them to be named widows!

What is the problem with the post counts, anyhow? This thread had two replies when I opened it, the latest not from its originator, but the reply count was zero, and the last post user name was not the last poster. Here’s hoping this post will get counted, so that stofsky will read the thread and see the helpful post by Ellen Cherry.

Eiyah! stofsky, thanks for the creepy image!

(Oh great…Now I get to think about black widows climbing all over me! Arrgh!) I should know better than to open a thread with “oogy” in it!

(FTR, the ex got bit by a black widow about a month ago. He didn’t realize what it was until after he got bit and smacked her. He ended up going to the hospital the next day, but it’s only because he has other health problems that it affected him so much.)

I was hosing out a diving booty once, when a black widow crawled out and onto my wrist. She didn’t live very long.

My father was bitten on the leg by a BW, and it gave him a nasty ulcerated sore that took a very, very long time to heal.

I like spiders, too. Once I saw a spider on the floor and her husband was going to stomp on it. I told him to stop, then caught the spider in a cup and took it outside. (She said, “Oh, he’s a Buddhist!” – I’m not.)

But having lived for eleven years in “Black Widow Country”, black widow spiders don’t live long if I see them. They do bite, and their venom is more dangerous than most other spiders. I’d kill brown recluse spiders too if I ever saw any. But other spiders are safe with me. If they’re small and stay around the floorboards it’s not my worry. If they’re out roaming, I’ll catch them and release them outside.

The night before we were having our housewarming party, I wandered out the front door to find Mr Winnie (I don’t often use the front door - I go throught the garage). Good thing I did - right in front of our front door was the first BW I’ve ever seen IRL. THAT would have been a fine way to welcome guests to our new home!

Gah! Spiders are my numbero uno thingie that I’m scared of.

I got bitten by a reculse spider and ended up in the hospital from the infection a few years ago, and now even those teeny tiny little red dot spiders scare the crap outta me.

Props to you for eliminating one of them from this earth. Keep up the good work.

One more post from the spider crusader …

I have no quibble with anyone’s emotional reaction to spiders. I too have no wish to touch one, spot one crawling up my leg, or get bitten by a brown recluse or black widow. Spiders as a whole are indeed ooogy and I’m not one to cuddle up with one.

But please remember they’re important! As predators, they control other insects. Wiping out one spider means there’s just more prey bugs around. Spiders are our friends! Welcome them in the garden. Shoo one away from the door, but we need them everywhere else!

~Ellen “Spidey” Cherry :wink:

For the arachnophile among us, Ellen, from this site:

Fatal or no, I’m gonna step on the ugly little momma and squish her eggsacs like a car at a monster truck rally.

Hell, if I want to feel like that, I’ll drink a quart of everclear…again.

Ellen Cherry: Indeed spiders, even black widows and brown recluses, are beneficial. But in the case of those two I think the potential risk outweighs the benefit. I’m not saying we should hunt them down, but if they are in our dwellings they’re fair game.

As I said, I’m “catch and release” with other spideys. :slight_smile:

I don’t usually mind spiders, either, and end up either leaving them to their business or releasing them outside if I find them inside. But my boyfriend gets creeped out by them–and now I know he has a reason to:

A few weeks ago he woke up in the middle of the night with chills so violent that he couldn’t even call to me (I was a few rooms away on the futon). They dissipated and he was fine, but in the morning he found a big bruise on his upper thigh with two tiny fang marks in the middle. Needless to say, we tore apart his bedroom the next day and vacuumed up all the spiders and webs we could find–more to make him feel better than out of any hope of finding the spider. (Whatever it was, it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill house spider; the fang marks were too big for those, I think.)

–AR