There are two types of people in this world: those who trap spiders under a glass and release them outside, and those who use a shoe. I’m a proud member of Team Glass-and-Paper. It’s like a miniature hostage negotiation, with me whispering, “Easy now, Internet is that way. I’m just your Uber driver to the backyard.”
But here’s the thing: spiders are surprisingly bad at cooperating. You slide the paper under the glass, thinking you’re a genius, and then half the spider’s legs get stuck outside, and you have to start over while your roommates laugh at you from the hallway.
And what about when you finally get them outside? You walk to the garden, tip the glass, and feel a little proud. Then you go back inside, and two hours later, you see the exact same spider on your ceiling again. Did he take a shortcut? Was he just hitching a ride on your shirt the whole time? You’ll never know.
The spider as a roommate
I’ve learned to view my eight-legged squatters with a weird sort of respect. They eat mosquitoes, which is a solid contribution to the household. Honestly, I’ve had human roommates who contributed less—like that guy who never washed his coffee mug until it developed its own ecosystem.
Still, there’s no denying that a spider in your bedroom is a primal test of bravery. It turns a grown adult into a trembling child, armed with nothing but a toilet paper roll and a prayer. If you manage to catch and release one without screaming, you deserve a medal.
How Do I Keep Spiders Out Of My Bed | Detroit Chinatown
The other day, I saw a spider camped out above my bed. He’d built a web between my ceiling and a poster, like he was curating his own art gallery. I stared at him, he stared back, and I swear he wiggled a leg as if to say, “Nice web, right? I call it ‘Minimalist Chaos.’”
