Photo courtesy of SID CEASER PHOTOGRAPHY Shown is writer and humorist Teresa Santoski.

Halloween decorating ideas have been popping up on my social media feeds since at least late August. From tutorials on how to make velvet pumpkins to where to buy coffee mugs that look like ghosts, you have all the information you need to decorate as much-or as little-as you like.

I’ve put out a few embellishments in acknowledgment of the fall season, but I have no intention of decorating specifically for Halloween. Due to the exceedingly unfair number of spiders I have to deal with on a regular basis, I already feel like I’m living in a one-note haunted house attraction.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, my bathroom is a desirable gathering place for spiders. Perhaps it’s because the room has a large number of accessible corners, making the space conducive to web construction and also making it possible for multiple spiders to live in the bathroom without infringing on each other’s territories.

The bathroom also has its own electric heater, which can make it warmer than other rooms in the fully finished basement of which my apartment is a part. All these factors apparently add up to a spider luxury apartment situation.

I tend to come across new residents late at night or in the wee hours of the morning. Most of them fall within what I have dubbed my “radius of squishability,” meaning they’re of a size I can handle on my own. What’s unsettling are some of the locations in which I’ve found these eight-legged interlopers.

There was the small wood spider that was hanging out on the edge of the bathtub, inches from where my head had been resting during a bubble bath. Thankfully, I didn’t notice him until I had safely exited the tub. Perhaps he was waiting for his turn. He was regrettably disappointed.

Then there was the dead spider I found sandwiched between the shower curtain and the shower curtain liner. Upon closer inspection, the dead spider was being eaten by a larger, very much alive spider. I had to call for backup on that one.

And I will never forget bending down to take care of one spider that was crawling across the bathroom floor, only to catch a glimpse of another spider clinging to the inside of the toilet bowl. To this day, I remain extremely grateful for that first spider. If there is a heaven for spiders, he deserves to be there.

But the most bone-chilling encounter I’ve had to date took place a few weeks ago, when I approached the entrance to my bathroom, caught a quick glance of the rug in front of the bathtub and saw nothing but legs.

Imagine how thick spider legs have to be in order to see them out of the corner of your eye and from a distance. Surely, this was Goliath come to do battle on behalf of the Philistines.

Mercifully, Mom was still awake, and she graciously came downstairs to be my David despite being terrified herself. I couldn’t even go into the bathroom to help her. Had I seen Goliath in all his horrifying glory, I might have given up on the bathroom completely and ceded it to the spiders.

This was a rare unsquishable-a spider that could not be squished. Mom managed to trap Goliath inside a Tupperware container in hopes of releasing him outside, but it was too dark for her to do so safely. And so, Goliath was left outside in his plastic holding cell, with Mom promising that Dad would free the spider when he left for work that morning.

I slept uneasily that night. All I could think about was the sun coming up and frying Goliath to death inside the Tupperware before Dad had a chance to set him free.

I have always made a point of dealing humanely with spiders. When I squish, I squish quickly and completely. A lingering death in a crumpled-up tissue in the trashcan is cruel and unnecessary. Setting up a spider to burn alive would be unthinkable.

The first thing I did upon awakening was to go outside and check-from a distance-if Dad had set Goliath free. He had not. Dad later explained that when he had looked in on the spider before leaving for work, the spider hadn’t been moving, so he had assumed Goliath was dead.

When Mom approached the Tupperware, Goliath was moving again. Apparently, he had gone into some sort of hibernation mode because of how cold it had gotten at night. How wonderful to know that some spiders have the ability to appear dead while still being very much alive.

With Dad at work, it unfortunately fell to Mom to set Goliath free. She brought him down to the edge of the woods, took the lid off the container and made a run for it. Goliath scuttled into the tree line, a little wobbly after his overnight adventure, but none the worse for wear.

While other people are putting up cotton batting cobwebs and plastic spiders to create a spooky Halloween atmosphere, I will content myself with my autumn leaf scented hand soap. The last thing I want is to have to distinguish between real spiders and fake ones.

During this time of physical distancing, perhaps I should look into renting out my bathroom to haunted house enthusiasts in search of socially responsible Halloween thrills. “Welcome to the Bathroom of Unexpected Midnight Arachnids! Put on a moisturizing face mask and settle into a relaxing bubble bath-if you dare.”

Tete-a-tete is published monthly. Teresa Santoski can be reached at tsantoski@gmail.com or via www.teresasantoski.com.

Newsletter