So last night I got the bright idea to vacuum the house. Mr. Zoom was working late, and I had a case of the zooms.
Who knew electricity systems had limits? Apparently running the t.v., lights, a fan and the vacuum cleaner all at one time is a little much for the old girl. The house, not me.
Luckily, I only took out about 1/3 of the house. Unfortunately that 1/3 was the computer room. Mr. Zoom still had work to do and mistakenly believed that he could do it "remotely" from home. That was before I was left unattended in said home playing Enron VP.
When he drove up I met him out in the garage with the words every tired husband wants to hear: "Um...sweetie...do you remember where the fuse box is?"
We got a flashlight and made the trip around the side of the house. Only problem was, lots of spiders were now living on that side of the house and had made quite an impressive blanket of web over the switches.
Lots of now ANGRY spiders, since Mr. Zoom and I just walked through their webs and weren't about to stick around and be dinner.
I started to get the wibblies and then I spied one of the biggest spiders I've ever seen hanging out in his web. Right on the corner of the house we needed to be at.
I ran past Mr. Zoom and into the house - making squeaky noises, and then I pointed and said "SPIDER!" Mr. Zoom is prettty used to this, so he wasn't phased. Not until he saw the spider himself. I was trying to shake that "WEBS ALL OVER ME!" sensation.
Then I hear: "CHRIST that's a big spider." "Do me a favor, and go get the broom."
I found some Raid and passed that to him, along with a broom that I will probably now burn. I wouldn't come out of the house. I just gave him the stuff and practically slammed the screen door shut again.
Mr. Zoom then said "OH GREAT! It's a Black Widow! It's turned around now so I can see it's red mark."
Not that I could hear anything. I was too busy making the "uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuaiaaaiiiieeeeeeeeee" noise while hiding in the house behind the screen door. You'd think I could at least hold the flashlight for him so he could have his hands free to deal with MY MESS. No, instead I busied myself with the "ew a spider" dance until it was over. Mr. Zoom calls it my "1950's housewife reaction."
He finally found and flipped the thingie that I had angered in my quest for simultaneous t.v., lights, fans and cleanliness.
You might be able to imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning and he hadn't moved me out to the curb in my jammies. Or listed me on Craiglist as "free to home, any home...it doesn't really even have to be a home."