No matter how many tutus they are wearing. It’s not like they can dance on those spindly legs of theirs anyways.

Today was the second time in two months that I found a ginormous spider in the shower at the SLAC gym.  And for those who are asking, yes, ginormous is in the dictionary.  Sometimes I wonder who’s in charge over there, because “twerk”, “fauxhawk”, “selfie”, and “apols” have also been officially added in.  Don’t know what “apols” means?  I’ll save you the time of looking it up–it’s short for apologies.  Seriously.  Someone decided that was a good enough reason to get it added to the bible of the American language.  Notice I said American, not English, because NO ONE in England is going to say “apols” ever.  That would be akin to skipping afternoon tea.

Now that we’re back from that slightly ridiculous but oh-so-necessary tangent, we can discuss the overabundance of spiders in the gym shower.  I was happily washing my hair and cooling down from a sweaty lunchtime soccer game* when I turned around and saw his black beady eyes staring down at me.  From a vantage point just out of reach on the wall of the shower, I just know he was taunting me, ready to strike if I so much as dared to disrupt his afternoon siesta with a spray of water.

But daring, I am not.  At least not in the face of so many black spindly legs.  I stared at him for the remainder of my shower, which involved rinsing out whatever soap was currently on me and getting the heck out of there.  I couldn’t look away, because the worst possible thing would have been for me to look back to find that he’d gone.

After the fastest shower I’ve taken since the last time I’d stumbled** upon a spider, I rushed to the lobby (with clothes on, I promise) and told the gym manager about it.  She happens to be fearless and marched right into the locker room with a broom.  A minute later she came out with the spider clinging to the broom, went outside, and proceeded to deposit the spider right into the bushes outside the door.  I mean, come on, if you’re not going to squash the little guy***, you could at least put him down across the parking lot or something.  I’m not going to be surprised if he scurries right back into the locker room, ready to pounce on any unsuspecting gym-goers.  Or suspecting ones.  I’m going to keep a watch out, that’s for sure.

*70 degree weather in February for the win.  This is why I deal with commuting in the Bay.

**It was literally on the floor by my foot.  I was traumatized, if you can’t tell.

***I’m not saying that spiders all deserve to die, because I realize that they kill mosquitoes, who are the actual scum of the earth.  There’s a tough toss-up there.