Perhaps because the weather has suddenly turned cold, the apartment is overrun with spiders of bewildering variety: wispy gray spiders that seem at first glance to be mere motes of dust, fat black spiders like bloated licorice jelly beans, leggy little chestnut-colored spiders, and even one repulsive white spider, its chitinous body and legs outlined only in shadow as it scuttered across the white wall away from my desperately whacking shoe and toward freedom.
Yes, I am whacking at them. Usually, I am one of those saps who fishes the spider out of the tub on a string or a card, then escorts him or her outside, but instinct took over when the spider I found in the tub was the size of a plump raspberry. A big, black, fast-moving raspberry with a stubborn exoskeleton. Shudder.