Australia Australia Day australian Barack Obama bariatric surgery Beaches Bicheno Birds Bonneville Brisbane British Columbia Broken Bay Canada canadian commuting customer service diet dieting discrimination Ettalong Beach fat Fat Tales fear Food Addiction friends gastric band golf Growing old Health home Hunter Valley Kangaroo Koala Lap Band Lap Band surgery Life love Margaret River Martin Luther King motorbikes motorcycle motorcycles nature obesity Optifast Orford overweight Perth Public Speaking Queensland rain relationships religion riding roo scars snakes Spiders stars surgery swimming sydney Tasmania Tassie Toastmasters tourism Travel Triumph Ulysses WA weight disorders weight loss Western Australia wombat woy woy
Scribbles on life, the universe and everything… Woy Woy, Ettalong, Umina and teh Central Coast that is!
I’m Outta Here!
July 2, 2009Posted by on
I was ready to pack up and go home! It was the worst day of my life and it got me thinking “maybe living in Australia is not for me!” What happened? Pretty much the worst that can happen to me occured, there was a really big (Al’s words, not mine) huntsman spider on my deck. My words to describe the spider would have been more like horrible, humungous, terrifying, not big! The worst thing is I have sat out on the deck to eat. I have sat out on that deck to drink. I have sat out on that deck in the sun with my eyes closed. I have sat out on that deck without looking under the table or chairs first. That trust is now gone. In the past, I viewed it as a “safe zone”, but from now on I will be on guard on my own deck.
I was told that the spider would have been looking to get out of the rain. If that is what it was looking for, it didn’t do very well because it ended up being flushed down the toilet! I had thought I was safe living on the 3rd floor. We haven’t had anything more than a few little house spiders show up in the past.
I thought I had been doing well to eat outside with big (my words now) cockroaches running up and down the side of the house while we ate. In fact it is the standing joke now because I shoo them away like they are cats or dogs. I clap my hands and chase them away. They react quite well to this and I hardly ever have to get my spider catcher (it’s a joke for catching spiders, the handle is about 10 feet to short) and scoop the ‘cocky’ up to throw over the balcony! Funny thing is they usually don’t fly when you do this, they land on the roof below with a thud. Maybe underneath all this niceness (my words again), I am truly a sick twisted person because it doesn’t bother me at all when I throw an insect over the ledge. Bombs away!
Apparently having a humungous $%#% (my words) huntsman spider on my deck is not enough to warrant leaving the man I love behind to move back to a country with normal (still very scary though) sized spiders. Fine! I will stay, but I think I should get to know the exterminator better, much better!