My Life as an African Gypsy

I have grown somewhat accustom to little bugs all around.

Beetles are some of my least favorite; having grown up in South Texas, they remind me a little too much of the dreaded cockroach. Spiders on the other hand, as I have been told, are many times good to have around. This is because they eat other insects, the ones I like less.

Around here I have come to know three kinds of spiders, maybe by their technical names, or maybe by names that have been passed down from one frightful encounter to another. One spider reminds me of a daddy-long-legs, one is flat and sometimes larger wall spider, and the last is a smaller jumping spider.

Last night I was taking a nice bath, when, already emerged in the hot water, I discovered a little jumping spider hiding underneath the soap dish that is mounted in the wall. No biggie, just so long as it stays put. You see, I may have gotten used to the bugs around, but not on me or even too near me.

It was not a minute later that this little fellow started to move. Slowly, mind you, but moving. Not good.

Towards the tub. Worse.

I could not help but envision him using his jumping legs and leaping into my hot relaxing bath, which would quickly become very UN-relaxing.

My method of defense, you ask?

Coughing. Yes, coughing.

I figured that loud noises may detract him. I also tried movement. Not too fast though, or it may spook him into a jump that would land him in the water next to me.

Needless to say, my hot relaxing bath turned into a short "get yourself clean quick" bath.