Huntsman spider (non-dessicated).
Some dwellings are just plain buggy. For no good reason certain houses are frequented by far more than their fair share of cockies, spiders and ants. No amount of pest control can defend a "buggy house." It's the law of the shag pile in there.
I once lived in a buggy house. My sister was staying there too and she agreed, it was a buggy house. The worst invaders were the huntsman spiders. These spiders, as big as your hand, would appear on the walls, waiting and watching. Once disturbed they would run and jump at and cling to anything that moved, like superheroes of the bug world.
One day, a super-sized huntsman ventured inside. My sister and I, being good citizens of the world, tried to shoosh it outside with a broom and when that failed, we attempted to catch it in an old tea-towel and then shake it outside into the garden.
Our efforts were in vain. When we reached a consensus that this particular spider had done its dash, I turned environmentally unfriendly, put my Buddhist tendencies aside and reached for the spider spray.
Having received a lethal dose of spray, the spider disappeared. We searched and searched with not a sign of the spider to be found. Oh well, we thought, it will turn up with the next vacuuming. It didn't.
Some three or four months later, my sister and I ventured to O'Reilly's Guest House in the rainforest. It was just after breakfast and we were preparing to go on a day-long walk. My sister already had her walking boots on and was cleaning her teeth in the bathroom. I was sitting on the floor of our room: left sock on, left boot on, right sock on and then it happened!
As I slid on my right boot, my heel crunched to the sole. I immediately knew what it was and started convulsing with laughter. My sister came running, bemused by her sibling's sudden seizure. I couldn't speak. All I could do was tip the contents of my boot, one dessicated huntsman spider corpse, onto the carpet.
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