I do not like spiders. I know, it’s just a mental thing… the creepy crawly advancing legs disturb me. I don’t mind snakes and lots of other bugs, mice, whatever, but I am not good at dealing with spiders.

We have a spider issue in my bathroom in our house. Always have. It’s because we have an exhaust fan going up into the attic… which also means there is a connection to the attic for spidies to come in through.

This winter has been pretty bad. Some days there are three, four, or more spiders in the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning when I rise to shower. Other days none– it’s not like we have a massive infestation or anything– but when you’re afraid of spidies, any spidies is too many. Until…

GEORGE.

George is a very large spider in comparison to the ones I normally see. Every once in a blue moon I’ll encounter a brown recluse but normally they appear to be some variety of a generic brown house spider kind of like what I was raised to call a “daddy long legs.” Very small, a centimeter or two, legs included. George is probably three centimeters, and ever since he has inhabited the corner behind the door of the bathroom, I’ve seen very few other spiders visit.

He stays up high, just a little above my eye level, and I’m about 5′7″. He doesn’t build crazy huge webs. He stays in his corner and in my uneducated-about-spiders mind he is keeping the other spiders away because he is territorial and that is now his bathroom.

He is *always* in his corner. I’m talking like it has to have been more than a month now that George has been around and every time I’m in the bathroom and close the door, there he is hiding behind it.

Until this morning.

This morning, I shut the door, and, “Hi, Geor…”

He was gone!

Where did my little spider friend go, I wondered?

I began to ponder the repercussions of his disappearance– the return of more frequent other spider visitors who are not respectful of my space and hide in the shower curtain and the cabinets waiting to scare me– as I did my normal pre-shower routine.

I got all nekkid and hopped in the shower. Turned my back to the deliciously warm water and rolled back my head to soak my hair… and…

THERE…

Was George. Up in the crease where the wall meets the ceiling, over the shower, there for me to have to look at the entire time I had my back to the water to wash my mass of hair.

“GEORGE!”

The dirty little bastard watched my entire shower.

Finished up, got out. Toweled myself dry. Wrapped my hair up in the towel and flipped my head back up, looking in the mirror to apply my facial moisturizer… and there, behind me, quite visible right in the smack middle of the mirror’s view was George, hanging out where ceiling meets wall some more.

I glared at him in the mirror. He didn’t take the hint.

As a general rule, I do my best to just ignore the spiders unless they are in my way or startle me. Those offenses carry the penalty of death. Other than that, I’m trying to conquer my fear of them by letting them be– I know their species existed a long time before mine and that’s something to be respected, even if they creep me the hell out. But I am insulted by George’s sudden boldness.

It’s grounds for squishal if he doesn’t get back in his corner.

What do you think? Should George live, or die by shoe? (Or shampoo bottle. Those seem to be more handy in the bathroom.)