Whenever I tell someone I lived in Hawaii for several years, they invariably ask what I miss about it. They assume (rightfully so) that the never-ending sunshine, white sandy beaches, warm turquoise oceans, and breathtaking plumeria growing outside your bedroom window would be aptly named “Paradise,” and no one in their right mind wouldn’t want to live there.
What haoles don’t know about is the “wildlife.” No, I’m not talking about lions, tigers, and bears. I’m referring to the geckos (without the cute accent, the briefcase, and the TV contract), centipedes (nasty and fast, who lie in wait in warm, dark places, and whose sting feels like 100 pissed-off wasps. You quickly learn to check your shoes and your sheets before getting into either), and the spiders. OMG, the spiders.
Cane spiders are roughly the size of your hand. Lay your hand on a table, spread your fingers wide, and look down. If it was dark brown and hairy, it would be a cane spider. They love warm, damp places. As in your shower.
In the 50-year-old, plantation-style house we were renting, the bathroom was semi-attached to the back. We were told that this was a common custom, so the plantation workers could shower or go to the bathroom without having to enter the main part of the house. It wasn’t until later that we discovered that plantation workers and cane spiders used the same access door to the bathroom.
The first time I found a cane spider in my shower, I blinded half a dozen neighbors by accidentally dropping my towel and running, screaming and buck-naked, out the bathroom door to get back to the house. I didn’t shower for three days, waiting for him to leave, until my son finally asked if Mom was ever going to smell good again. Okay, Big Guy, I’m coming in.
After several morning showers together, Big Guy and I became fast friends. He would hang upside down on the side of the wall like a squirrel up a tree, close to my head, and peer at me through ridiculously long eyelashes while I told him about my plans for the day. He’d hang perfectly still until I was done, except for the occasional blink. I’d talk, he’d blink. This went on for several months. During that time, I learned that cane spiders are actually quite timid and won’t bite unless provoked or scared. As I grew more fond of him, I had to resist all urges to reach out and pet him, and he seemed quite content with our morning routine.
One day, I pulled the shower curtain back and Big Guy was gone. My morning confidante had simply vanished. I never saw him again, and will always wonder what happened to him or if he remembers me. (I know, it’s a spider. Their brains appear to be quite small. But we don’t know for sure, do we?) When he left, he took my fear of spiders with him. This came in handy years later, when Hubs and I got married.
Hubs is deathly afraid of all things arachno. My big, athletic, motorcycle-riding contractor jumps up on a chair and screams like a little girl if he sees the tiniest spider, even if it’s running in the opposite direction. He’ll go after snakes, skunks, and even the 350-pound neighbor if he’s getting too flirty with his wife, but spider patrol is emphatically and permanently my marital responsibility.
Early one morning, I was in the bedroom getting dressed, when I felt a little tickling sensation running up my calf. Thinking it had to be a spider or a bug of some sort, and wanting to stop it before it reached my girl stuff, I started vigorously shaking my leg like a dog after a tree pee, simultaneously hopping on one foot while trying to peel my jeans off. Hubs came around the counter, took one look, and burst into apparently uncontrollable laughter. “If you’re working on your shimmy dance,” he managed to choke out, “sorry babe, but that move is more spastic than sexy. Maybe there are easier moves, you know, for older women.”
For older women??
I pointed to the large spider that fell out of my pant leg and hit the hardwood floor with a thud. Hubs immediately tore down the hall, screaming like a hyena for me to “KILLLLL IT!!” while I ran to get a paper towel before it disappeared from sight.
As I was scooping up our hairy intruder, I held it up to Hubs and replied, “Spastic this, buddy. And when you come down off that chair, we can critique that move.”
We’re planning our second honeymoon. I’m thinking Hawaii is not gonna happen.
I can picture him and it make me laugh! Just had a spider bite on the underside of my bat wing. Thinking that a spider was in bed and bit me grosses me out but his time of year they are everywhere. I actually had to take the broom again to the front door. The poor trick or treaters will think it is just fake but those webs I took down were real!
Happy to bring you some giggles this morning, Haralee! It seems none of us are immune to a touch of arachno. :)
I live in Hawaii, on the Island of Oahu. When we lived in the jungle, on the Big Island, I became familiar, with Cane Spiders. They would sometimes come inside our one room house, which sat upstairs, among the trees. We had only screens, for windows. When we would see one, on our wall, my two oldest daughters took pity on them (they had read that the Cane Spiders were shy), so one would hold a paper bag, open, and the other would shoo it in with a newspaper. Then they carried the bag outside and leave the spider free to enjoy its life!
Hahaha! We lived in Hawaii 30 years ago! The centipedes and roaches were enormous!! I never was so happy to have geckos running through our house. Even after all these years, I still shake out my clothes, shoes and bedding. Some things just scar (and scare) you for life. But it sure was a pretty place to live…
I’m with you, Lynne! It’s beautiful, but oh Lordy, the bugs! :)
Yeah. Me and spiders. We’re not friends. Do you make house calls?
Hahaha, Diane! Yes, I’m thinking of going into business as a “spider-getter.” But I get to pick which spiders. :)
Oh, gawd, I hate spiders. And flying. My idea of hell is to be on a plane filled with spiders. Thankfully, my Hubs is not afraid of the eight-legged creatures. And Xanax and chardonnay help get me on a plane. But I simply CANNOT imagine taking a shower with a hairy arachnoid. I think I would have moved.
Xanax and chardonnay? Roxanne, you know how to fly! And this particular spider was so darn cute. Longest eyelashes ever. What’s up with that? :)
“Valerie” and “spider” in the same sentence is almost as catastrophic as “Valerie” and “spider” in the same room. I can’t do spiders. I just can’t. I shiver both in terror and empathy for your hubs.
Valerie, I did too, until I met Big Guy. I do, however, need to see the spider, not just feel it up my jeans. :)
You always make me laugh! I think Hubs should do the spider dance while you facebook live post!
Thanks, Ellen! I keep asking, but he’s stalling! :)
I think any fear I had of spiders happened when I got bit INSIDE my mouth at 10 yrs of age! However I don’t sleep with my mouth open & warn all spiders “if I see you in my area, you’re dead”
OMG, Cheryl, inside your mouth?? Okay, that would have put me in therapy for-ev-er. I’ll help you kill ’em when you see ’em! :)
Sorry, but I’m with Valerie. There are no shower privileges (or any other kind, for that matter) for spiders in my world and I am never getting close enough to see their eyelashes. Charlotte never managed to win me over, no matter how smart she made Wilbur seem. Spiders – outside; Me – inside. Spiders that break that rule DIE. That is why God made RAID.
Amen to that Lee!
My hubs is the man in charge of anything and everything that creeps, crawls or flies into the house. Bravo for him. But get him near broken glass on the floor–especially if there was liquid in it–and OMG, spare me his presence.
My husband is the exact same way. Six foot tall and 180lbs of pure muscle…he sees a spider and he turns into a 5-year-old girl with a set of lungs you wouldn’t believe.