Well, the season’s upon us. Sandal season? No, but you’ll find those flip flops will come in really handy when the realization the spiders have woken up sinks in.

I’ll give you a moment.

I’m not sure what things are like in your neck of the woods, but around the Split-level, as soon as the warm weather hits, the hairy, eight-legged threat increases ten-fold. By the time summer’s here, I spend most of my nights staring at the ceiling, praying that water spots now build webs, and calculating the time it will take to burrow under Husband and turn him into a human shield.

(For the purposes of this post, Husband loves being turned into a human shield.)

This year, we were ready. Victims no longer, the Kellermans set up an appointment with the exterminator, nice and early. I asked all the preliminary questions:

“And you can spray for spiders, roaches, and ants?”

“We can.”

“Will this require you to burn the house down? Because, we’re ok with it either way.”

Monday morning, the pleasant man in the grey uniform showed up, armed from head to toe with bug-killing gear. Sundance questioned him furiously, as she’s prone to do to any poor stranger, and while I kept a hand over her mouth and held Butch back from pulling the trigger on something which looked like it housed chemicals, I listed to his plan of action and nodded enthusiastically.

Would I like the whole house sprayed?
Yes.
Traps set?
Yes.
Could I please let go of his leg and stop weeping with joy?
Sure, but was that necessary to the extermination process?

Over the next half hour, the house was sprayed within an inch of its life, and Sundance also used this time to shout down to the basement, “Bug man, do you see any bugs yet?” …somewhere around twenty times.

At the end of it, I wrote my check with zest and signed a paper listing the bug-killing sorcery our house was now doused in.

The bug man looked at me seriously. “Mrs. Kellerman, there’s just a couple things.”

“Yes?”

“Now that the house has been sprayed, you might see some extra activity.”

I laughed. “Oh, I don’t exercise.”

“You see, when the chemicals are put down, it kills the spider’s food sources and drives all the bugs out of hiding. So you may see a few more bugs and spiders than usual, temporarily.”

“So what you’re saying is I just paid you to drive my arch nemisiseses… Sorry, I’ve never been much good and pluralizing things. Drive them out into the open? That wasn’t the idea at all.”

“It’s only temporary.”

“No, my love of grommet belts was only temporary. This is devastating.”

So, here we stand (full discloser: I’m actually sitting and typing), waiting for the enemy which may never come, but I’m ready with a flip flop anyway. Good luck this season, my fellow spider hunters. Good luck.

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Paige Kellerman blogs about marriage, babies and gin at www.paigekellerman.com. You can reach her at .