The Spiders in my Garage
We're trying to coexist in peace
At the time of writing this, I’ve got about a half hour before I need to eat dinner and then another half hour before I plan to leave the house to go run some errands.
That means I have approximately one hour before I’ll step outside and cautiously lift the lid on my garage opener like it’s coated in poison. I try to only touch it with a single finger to minimize the chance that anything will scurry out from the dark and onto my hand.
I’ve learned from experience that there’s usually at least one eight-legged creature sheltering underneath the lid. Whenever I open it, it becomes frightened like I’ve just pulled the roof off its apartment. But I can promise you these spiders are not paying rent. I wish they would, because the amount of space they’re taking up is starting to feel like I have roommates.
When I first rented the garage I have now, I paid little mind to its location. It backs up to a field, which I’ve always enjoyed looking at. A pretty little field can’t hurt me, right?
But fields mean plants, and plants mean animals. Bugs crawl and fly around in those tall grasses looking for things to eat and places to lay eggs. That includes spiders, who have no sense of property boundaries and probably think my garage is just another landmark in their vast habitat.
Let me tell you about how I first learned about the spider problem in my garage. When I opened the lid to the garage opener for the first time, I saw a little guy run out and was like “huh, that’s funny, poor spider got trapped in there.” It seemed weird and a little startling, but otherwise unremarkable.
Then I looked up. I saw a huge, tangled web stretching along the wall. And then I looked over. Several daddy long legs were crawling over the garage door. I also noticed a few blending in with the brick edging that separates my garage from my neighbor’s.
But it wasn’t until I pulled my car into the garage that I realized the spiders might actually be a problem. That was when a daddy long legs fell directly onto my front windshield.
Thankfully at this point in my life I’ve conquered a lot of my childhood arachnophobia, but I still have limits. It’s absolutely disgusting for a spider to drop from the ceiling unprompted. I don’t care what they crawl on (as long as it’s not me) but once they have the power to suddenly spawn on a surface just a foot from my face, they’ve seriously crossed a line.
I can respect what spiders do for the ecosystem, and the fact that they’re just trying to survive. But I do not, and I repeat, do not want them in my zone. They can live in my garage all they want, but I do not want any spider larger than the tip of my finger to be close enough to my face for me to blow on it. I am very serious about my personal space!!
Ever since that incident I make sure to roll my car windows up before pulling into the garage just in case it happens again. Whenever I open the driver’s side door, I do a quick glance upwards just in case something is dangling above me, waiting for the opportunity to free fall onto my face.
I’m sure the sight of me in the garage isn’t too thrilling for the spiders, either. Imagine you’re a spider, and you and your buddies find a cool cave to live in that’s sheltered from the extreme weather and has lots of flies and other bugs to snack on. And then a literal giant starts coming in and storing a huge, loud machine right in the middle of it. So much for privacy, huh?
I know winter is coming soon, so I won’t be surprised to see even more spiders move in soon. That’s okay, as long as they can mind their business. And I’m sure they’ll be happy if I mind my own business, too.