A Trible-esque Warning

So I hate spiders. Like really hate spiders.


My workshop is in our finished basement, which is also the place where the most spiders congregate and hang out. I regularly douse my area, including all the surfaces and objects, with some super spider boundary/killer spray. But I still experience fear every time I turn the corner of the tool cabinet and hop quickly into my chair, lifting my feet off the ground.

So I've decided to add another facet to my spider protection.  There's a couple of dead ones (one in the sliding door jamb and one over by the utility closet door) that I'm strategically leaving in place. My theory goes like this: Other spiders will come upon their fallen brethren and see the horror that has befallen them. They will, therefore, run far, far away, spreading the fearsome warning throughout the evil spider kingdom. And no spiders will invade my space again. I figure it's like tribes who kill their enemies and display their heads on spikes as a warning . . . just like that.

Also, I'm too scared to pick up the dead spiders.

Because they could be faking it.

New Beginnings

After a month of broken-foot-ititus, I conquered the stairs (by sliding down them like a toddler) and made it to the workshop a couple nights ago. I promptly doused everything in super-killing spider spray, as I have had numerous dreams of spiders taking over and inhabiting every inch of my workspace, patiently waiting to capture me like the Lilliputs captured Gulliver.


Today, I actually made it down there to work.  And, by work, I mean play.  I plugged in the drill press and drilled holes randomly.  Ah, the sweet sound of high-powered machinery!

Once the initial euphoria wore off, I finally started on a custom order I received several weeks ago.  I bent things and drilled things and attached aluminum knives to a pepper shaker.  It was magical.


Although I didn't last as long as I'd like, I feel good. Good enough to mostly ignore the not-so-subtle throbbing of my foot. It's a brave new world.