Quite Random

Spider / human territorial dispute

He’s about two inches across, legs and all. Chunky little body, and thick hairy legs. I think I even saw his eyes glistening at me last night. There have been spiders in the bathroom before, but they all had scrawny stick legs like a harvestman. He’s got legs like an England prop, and I think he’s eaten the scrawny spiders because the other night he was snacking on something long and leg-like. I chose to accept him as my new housemate, because he’s not done me any harm. I’m used to living surrounded by small creatures – the geckos chirp reassuringly outside while they clumsily pursue moths around the porch light, the mozzies zuzz by my head in bed, and the occasional cockroach is seen off the premises with a can of Raid and a broom. The spider and I have been fine for a week. He pushed his luck the other day by clinging to the side of the toilet roll when I needed it but mostly he hangs on the wall eating stuff or twinkling his eyes at me.

Tonight, he pushed it too far.

I walked into the bathroom and was ready with the usual ritual – check to see where he was and offer him the kind of greeting that gentlemen acquaintances do in lavatories – a nod and maybe even a sideways-murmured something resembling ‘alright’. He was sat on the toilet. He might as well have been reading a paper and smoking a cigarette. I needed to use it but he stayed where he was, seemingly ignorant of my pleading expression.

Bear in mind at this point that the bugger is way too fast for the cup-and-postcard trick, and he’s on a curvy toilet seat. Khmer toilets come with a hose by the side, useful as a bidet or general hose type thing. I took it from the wall, aimed and fired. The jet of water hit him but stone me if he didn’t scuttle under the rim, wait a moment, and then disappear around the back of the bowl. Before I could see where he was, now he had done a disappearing act and had I been sat down he could choose to crawl under me and bite my arse at any time. I couldn’t take the chance. I hosed the toilet down, but no sign of him. I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted him off the toilet and maybe washed down the drain to consider the error of his ways. Nothing. No wet spider.

He’d won. I had to make do with taking a pee from three feet away in case he jumped me, before closing the door behind me. Returning ten minutes later, there he was, back on the toilet seat, smugly victorious. The thing is, I feel a bit bad for him. I think I washed some of his dinner down the drain, and I am much bigger than him. But I still haven’t gone and if I get desperate, he’s getting the hose again.