three things

In the past few days I've learned three things:

1 - When the weather channel said that the DC area will be experiencing remnants of Tropical Depression Lee, they really meant it. It has been pouring rain for the past three days which is causing some leaky roofs (not mine, thankfully, after a reluctant trip to the attic), flooded basements, a spillway barely able to contain the water raging down it, and really spectacular puddles for jumping. In these past three days I've learned that Tropical depressions really are completely depressing. 

2 - Most people don't know this story about me, because its not one I like to relive, but I think it might help you understand so I will risk total humiliation actually blogging this event. 

Several years ago Brad bought a car in hopes of fixing it up. It was a Nissan 280ZX, and while in great running condition, had one minor flaw which made me cringe the few times I actually rode in it. There was a hole, yes I said a hole, in the driver side floor. It wasn't a gaping hole, but it was big enough to let "bugs" of the 8 legged kind inside. 

The last time I was in this car, Brad was deployed (go figure), and Ashton and I had to move it half way across town one evening. I mentally prepared, checked things out before I got in, and decided I would just drive as fast as I could and get the heck out of that car. I felt confident as I hit the first stop light and nothing traumatizing had happened thus far. We merged on the highway, and while pushing 80 mph and only 2 exits from home I saw out of the corner of my eye a leg. It only takes one leg and I'm out.

My reaction was to slam on the brakes, swerve to the side of the road, climb over Ashton in the passenger seat, grab him out of the car as if our lives were on the line, all while on the side of the highway in pitch darkness. I called my brother in law who came prepared to successfully tackle the 8 legged critter, but not until everyone had a chuckle at my traumatizing expense. 

Hello. My name is Rebecca, and I have an irrational fear of spiders. 

Every time Brad has been deployed, I've lived with family, or close enough to call my spider killing team whenever needed. But this deployment I've decided to stay here in Virginia, no family in critter killing distance. 

Today, while upstairs, I heard Ashton yelling and breathing heavy. I know this sound because I have also passed much of my despise of anything with that many eyes and legs onto sweet Ashton. I feel deep guilt for this and plan to apologize to his future wife. 

I went downstairs, and nearly unable to catch his breath, I gathered the words 'spider, bathroom, huge' and the most important, 'I'M NOT KILLING IT'. Panic ensued me. What do I do? I had never been in this situation before. We both crept into the kitchen fully cautious of our surroundings because, in our minds, this predator could be anywhere waiting and ready to jump out at us. (I totally understand how ridiculous it sounds). The door was shut. I thought about just leaving it in there, plugging the small opening under the door, and never using that bathroom again. I thought of calling my sweet visiting teacher who lives down the street, because she offered to be my spider killer, but it was pouring outside and I hated to have her walk all the way over in the river that used to be the sidewalk at dinner time for something that seemed so silly. Still banking on option one,  I called Brad thinking he might miraculously be able to reach through the phone and take care of the situation himself. There wasn't anything he could do. I was crying at this point, because this is a serious traumatizing experience for me as silly as I know it sounds. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that this thing is in my house? 

I put Ashton in charge of the small boys,  and armed with a toy grabber arm crept downstairs. It took me a good 5 minutes to get past the baby gate into the kitchen. I had been upstairs trying to figure out who was going to solve this for me, and who knows what that spiders agenda was. It could be anywhere. 

I stood in the kitchen, frozen, telling myself all I had to do was open the door. Just reach the grabber to the door and open it. There were several attempts to fully open the door, not knowing what was behind the door, or when it was going to charge at me. 

The door was finally open, and there it was. Well, 1/4 of it. I could only see some legs. I grabbed, with the grabber of course not going to get another step closer, the only thing in the cleaning cabinet I could reach. A unused bottle of Clorox Toilet Bowl Cleaner with Bleach. On the other side of the kitchen I made sure it was open, tested how far it would squirt, and did a test spot on the floor to make sure it wouldn't bleach my bathroom. All was good and the legs were still in the same spot waiting for my attack. 

I was able to muster up enough courage to squeeze the heck out of that Clorox bottle in the direction of those legs...or all over the front of my bathroom if anyone is keeping track. I saw my 8 legged nemesis move to the left. It was retreating. Great....except I couldn't see it any more. Suddenly it could be anywhere again. 

After a break to pat myself on the back for great bravery in coating my bathroom with Clorox, I realized the next step was to turn on the light, but not before I made two extra sprays in the direction of the back of the bathroom which was not in my view. 

I knew I was going to have to finish this guy off if the bleach bath hadn't. I tried reaching the broom around the corner, but it was too long, as was the swiffer mop. Back to the arm grabber which took several attempts to lift the light switch. I came close to looking in the bathroom, but just couldn't bring myself to stick my whole head in the bathroom. I called for Ashton, who realized what trauma this was causing me, summed up his bravery to enter the bathroom and look for the spider. According to him it was no where to be found, but I remembered a towel on the floor. I ran through my game plan in my head, and feeling pretty dang courageous, I quickly drug the towel into view with the broom, still standing as far away as possible. There it was. I used the rest of the bottle of bleach directed at the perpetrator. The bottle was empty and I opened my eyes to see a black blob which was not looking so much like a spider anymore.  I confirmed, from a distance, he was dead. 

Winner winner chicken dinner! I battled an 8 legged freak and SURVIVED! I need a new broom, hand towel, arm grabber for the kids and Clorox Toilet Bowl Cleaner, because they all went straight to the outdoor trash for being involved in this incident, but I did not die. Nothing charged at me. Nothing jumped on me. Nothing even close to that happened. 

So, while I know this was an incredibly long story, the second thing I learned in the last few days is, I do have the courage to do things that I didn't think were possible, and hopefully my 9 year old will see that, and figure out that he does also, so he can too become a spider slayer. 

3 - One of the main reasons I decided to stay in Virginia was to make myself learn how to ask for help and to receive help that people offered which is something I struggle in. Help when I need a break, help when I can't do something myself, help when I need advice, or just someone to talk to who doesn't end a sentence with "poop. the end."  

In the past few days I've been so welcomed with new friends making sure I was doing okay, making sure I had all the information regarding the best schools in the area, stopping by during this tropical depression to make sure my attic isn't leaking and ruining my stuff, insight on which bike trails lead to where, etc. While I do miss being right around the corner from my favorite sister in law, I'm finding I also have a family here which makes this feel a lot more like home.