Dear Readers (Day 31 at Camp Lenox),

This is one of those stories that I have to share, but I really don’t know if it will translate … I’m hoping you’re amused by the comedy of errors that ensued. If not, you clearly have no real sense of humor and should not be reading this blog (I will never take the blame, ever).

That said, I’m still at camp. I had gotten to the point where I was feeling OK, even comfortable, in my cabin and then this happened. Last night, I had a visitor. He was hairy and aggressive and uninvited. I tried to slap him with my shoe, which is how I handle all unwanted guests. That’s a warning to you, don’t visit unannounced.

So, this visitor was lightning fast and also really large. I’m not one to tell a fish story, in fact, I have a tendency to actually downplay details. Therefore, when I say this intruder was the size of a small dog, it may have actually been the size of a small child. Actually, I’m pretty sure I missed contact the first time because I wasn’t sure if it was a camper — and I was a bit hesitant to whack a child with my shoe.

Now, I should also inform you that I’d been on OD and it was about 130 AM. In case you didn’t realize, I share a foyer with a senior administrator, Tim (remember the area where the AC unit is that leads to two closed doors?). The second I heard the main door open I yelled his name and sent him through the roof. I don’t think he was expecting someone to scream as he entered. I explained that there was an interloper the size of a softball and it was multicolored and had some weird pattern on its back and it was probably going to kill me … or at the very least make me some kind of radioactive superhero.

“I think it’s a brown recluse,” I said, because it’s like crazy poisonous and also the only name of a spider I know.

Like an older brother (who I learned is arachnophobic) he tried to hunt down the trespasser. Unable to catch it, he grabbed the bleach based mold and mildew cleaner and started spraying my bathroom. His trigger finger itchy like armed with something stronger … “This should ward him off,” he said, and then left. I shut the door and swiftly pushed the latch into the lock position with such force that Tim, commented through the door, “That should keep them out.” “If it’s a brown recluse it will, they can’t open locks… everyone knows that!” I yelled back.

I lay down, confident that my latch would suffice, and about 5 minutes later my eyes started to tear up and sting. Crap, the bleach is noxious, I can’t sleep. So, now it’s 2:15 and I’m in bed trying to determine whether I can sleep with the chemicals??? This is how the rest of the evening played out…

2:15 AM: Think, I probably shouldn’t sleep with these chemicals permeating the air in such an inclosed space. Maybe, if I open a window in the bathroom.

2:20 AM: Go to bathroom (where my guest was last seen) and open the blinds to get to the window, but apparently, the string on the blinds has never been used and is essentially for show, because …

2:25 AM: Entire blind setup crashes down onto the toilet.

2:20-2:35 AM: Reinstall blinds with makeshift tools — first upside down… then backwards … then cord gets stuck on toilet handle and I pull hard enough that it ricochets and smacks me in the face — awesome … freak out that spider is laughing at me.

2:40 AM: Text hubby that I’m in a room with noxious chemicals and a poisonous spider, so that if I’m found in the AM, he will know it was one or the other that did me in.

2:45 AM: Lie back down and convince myself that the odor is probably not healthy. Try to think of professions where people inhale chemicals on a regular basis to calm myself, but for some reason I can only picture the shower scene in Silkwood where Meryl Streep is contaminated. Remind myself that there is no ventilation and if I don’t die of bleach asphyxiation it will probably kill a ton of brain cells by morning. Tell myself I need every brain cell I have left and that I’ve probably lost some already or I wouldn’t even be having these inane thoughts at 3AM.

2:55 AM: Run out in the rain to sleep in one of the nurse’s rooms, who left for home today, but realize when I get there, she has no sheets on her bed.

3 AM: Run back to my room, into my bathroom and start throwing handfuls of water all over the toilet and floor area to dilute the bleach… open door to foyer and turn on AC for ventilation, even though I’m already freezing.

3-3:15 AM: Stare at knots in the wood on my ceiling with my flashlight and lose another brain cell or two.

3:15 AM: Tim walks back into foyer and realizes I’ve left the door open and AC blasting. “What’s happening, I thought you were using your latch trick?” he questioned.

“I was, but the bleach smell is making my eyes bleed and now I have 99 problems and the spider ain’t 1.” (I like to reference rap songs late night with people who probably won’t get it.)

I thought Tim would make fun of me, but apparently the smell hit him in the face when he entered the foyer and he apologized for the chemical poisoning he inflicted on me and suggested I go back to the empty room with no sheets and just bring my own.

3:30 AM: Felt my move to the empty room was justified (and not a sign of my neurotic insanity). Trek back to said room, in the rain with sheets and pillows. Scan it, double lock the doors and notice a growling sound, a bit like the hum of a chainsaw.

3:40 AM: Confirm that growling sound is my new neighbor snoring.

3:45 AM: Turn on AC (which is in room) to drown out the sound … and snuggle under damp covers.

Stupid Spider!

This morning, my bestie in the office, asked why I slept in the nurse’s room and I simply said there was a spider, like a mature adult who had not been through that French farce. An unaffected person, who didn’t have a welt on her face from slapping herself with the plastic thingie at the end of the blinds cord.

SWAK

~ Jenny From the Bunk

PS – Moments later I realized I’d given away my last K-Cup and I started to cry. Maybe I was slightly affected.

PPS – I’m pretty sure I was dealing with a Wolf Spider that looks like this:

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Day 25 I Did Not Think This Through

Day 18 Did I Pass the Swim Test 

Day 17 Who Knew the Great Outdoors Were So Buggy, I mean, Lovely?