When it comes to flies.
And ants in my house.
And don’t mention cockroaches. Yuk. Hate them. Spray and squash them. The spray stuns them and the shoe finished them off. I allow no chance that they may live and build an immunity to pesticides. Too horrid a thought.
Some spiders feel my wrath. Only some, you say? Yes, those who make webs on my windows are dead to me. Those little black ones whose bite may be instant death, are also sharply dispatched. But the big huntsmen get to live.
Our visit to NZ was similarly noted for its absence of pests. (There were little mozzies in NZ but they were so little and slow, that they died with a wave of the hand. No really! You didn’t have to squash them. Just slap them mid-air. I couldn’t believe it! You can slap mozzies here and when you take your hand off, leaving a hand print welt on your leg, the mozzie flies off! Or equally horrid, you kill the mozzie and leave blood – then you know you’ve got the bugger too late. It’s already had a feed and if I’m around, the blood is almost certainly mine as I attract mozzies.
The only flies in the whole of NZ seemed to live in Mr S’s cousin’s home. (And just quietly, there were zillions. I think all the flies of NZ congregated in her house.)
We don’t have many flies where we live. Our last house had lots more, being in the western suburbs. But then “more” is a relative term. A trip Outback will quickly tell you nowhere in Sydney has lots of flies, or ants. I drank my tea through a fly net so the flies didn’t get in my mouth.
The dearth of flies where we currently live is made up for by the mozzies. When it’s nice enough to sit on the back verandah for drinks or dinner, is when it is prime mozzie time. I have to retreat inside as as well as attracting mozzies, I react to their bites and take forever to heal. About the length of summer. So the bites finally heal in winter when I return to long pants. And the mozzies leave just as it is too cold to sit outside, so I have clear legs while they’re covered, only covered in scabs and lumps when they are bare for summer.
As to spiders, I am not afraid of them. They don’t have shoes as weapons as I do.
Except I am afeared when I find them, in the middle of the night, dismembered in my bed.
Yes, this has happened to me twice in my life. I feel a tickling. What is it? I squeal, “There’s something crawling on me!”
Mr S: You’re dreaming and neurotic. Stop turning on the light and go back to sleep.
Me: at first trying to ignore the tickling and not irritate Mr S, I lie there twitching until it is too much and I whip back the sheets, to reveal a spider, now twitching with legs pulled off by my twitching and scratching and wibbling around in bed.
Me: Argh! It is a spider.
Mr S: well it isn’t anymore. You’ve killed it. (His sympathy is with the spider.) Now turn out the light and go back to sleep. There won’t be anymore.
How does he know! He didn’t believe me the first time. Nor with the bird lice in our last house. Nor the bed bugs in NZ. Oh, yes bed bugs. That was the pits. Even Mr S didn’t object to me fumigating our luggage with two types of pesticides.
Anyway, back to the spiders.
The other time I am scared of spiders is when a red back (Google it if you’re not from Australia), tiny though it is, emerges from my sandshoe as I’m about to put it on!!! There are not enough exclamation marks in the world to convey the horror of that! Or a nest of them is discovered under of our house. Then I’m scared.