This picture of Black Widow number ten isn’t the sharpest, but the best I could muster considering the awkward corner of our basement she decided to hold court. Her growing pile of corpses testament to her wise decision of laying low and keeping out of the way. The room is only used for storage, I can’t say what made me pull back the curtain, yet was fairly certain I would find her there.
She seems to be well mannered, I suspect no intention on her part to stray from her well established lair. Officially she is widow #11 because my husband assassinated one in the family room a few days ago – fair enough, I annihilated #9, who I dubbed bedroom widow because it lived under the dresser in my bedroom.
I’ve known for well over a year that my Vancouver home is infested with Black Widows. Almost 70 years old, practically nirvana for creepy crawlies seeking a safe warm place. My dilemma stems from finding them rather fascinating – I’ve watched several of her predecessors trap flies with admiration, whenever possible I catch and release spiders outside.
A combination of research and observation lulls me into a sense of security. Black Widows are not aggressive, don’t roam about or do anything other than politely stake claim to quiet corners. I’ve never seen one out for a stroll – undoubtedly a contributing factor in my progression towards a crazy spider lady – at least I don’t name them or hand feed sacrificial insects. I probably need my head examined – until I figure out what to do, all I ask is that they keep to the basement and stay out of the laundry basket. Enjoy life while you can #10, common sense always prevails – an exterminator is in your immediate future.