Real-Life Halloween Decor

I had an unwanted house guest last week.  A spider.

I was rummaging through the hall closet, as usual only partially paying attention to what I was doing.  I glanced into my sewing room, and--still half-distracted--saw the BIGGEST spider EVER.  

Okay, I didn't really SEE it.  The shades were down, and I could see the outline of the spider through the shade.

I walked across the room, not believing what I was seeing.  

Is that huge thing really a spider?  Duh, Fran, you know it's a spider; you knew it from the hallway, before you even walked into the room.  

Is someone playing a joke on me? No, Fran, the window is not locked;  the top sash worked its way down and the spider very easily came into your warm house to escape the dipping fall temperatures.

Use your imagination, if you will:

Here is a picture of the light shining through the shade.  It's a Roman shade, so there are rings along the back where the cords raise and lower the shade.  The rings, one of which you can see in this picture, are approximately the size of a dime.

On Spider Day, I could see the shadows of all of the rings, with the exception of one ring.  That one ring had a huge spider superimposed on top of it.  We know that the ring is the size of a dime, and the spider was much larger than the ring--I'm not exaggerating--it was HUGE.

I was not thrilled to have a real-life Halloween decoration in my house.

My first thought was, "I hope that spider doesn't move, because Mr. Terrific won't be home from work for a few hours." ( And Mr. Terrific is the spider-killer in this house.)

My next thought was, "Take a picture of the spider so that if it moves you can show Mr. Terrific how big it was ."

My last (semi-coherent) thought was, "OMG!! I have to get this spider myself because if it moves I just CAN'T let it hide in my house!"

And all through this thought process I was on my tip-toes, sort of gently running in place, the back of my fist balled up against my mouth, doing my version of a dance called What-am-I-going-to-do, What-am-I-going-to-do, What-am-I-going-to-do-about-this-spider.  Finishing the dance by shaking my hands up and down in front of my face as if I'm fanning myself.

Coming up with a solution.

Lucky Caitie, home from school last week for her fall break.  I called her into the sewing room.  I pointed to the window, "Do you see that?"  Her eyes widened.

"That spider is outside, right?"  Uh, no, sweetie, that's why I need you.  She starts doing her own version of the spider dance, except her version only involves her head shaking back and forth, "No. No. No. No."

Shhh,...Caitie, just watch the spider while I go get my vacuum, okay?

I come back into the room, vacuum in tow. I'm going to use the wand attachment to suck the unsuspecting spider into oblivion.  I need Caitie to verrry slowwwly angle the bottom of the shade away from the window so I can slide the wand behind the shade.

 There were no last-minute attempts by the spider to jump to freedom, which would have prompted Caitie and me to really amp up our spider dances.  I'm happy to say that Operation Suck Up the Spider With My Vacuum was a success.