10/10 do not recommend.
So there I am, minding my own business, getting ready to brush my teeth. I glance down and see a baby spider just casually rappelling down from the faucet like it pays rent.
My hands are full — toothbrush in one, toothpaste in the other — so I do what any logical, bug-hating, multitasking adult would do: I splash some water at it and send it swirling down the drain. Bye, tiny demon.
I go about my business. Brush, rinse, spit.
Except… mid-brush, I spot her.
The mother of all spiders. No, seriously — this thing was the size of a salad plate and she was posted up next to the bathtub like she owned the place. We live in a wooded area, so wolf spiders are unfortunately normal around here, but this girl was next-level. I’m talking boss fight energy. Pretty sure she was pregnant, and definitely staring me down.
Naturally, I grab the bug spray — which, of course, does nothing. She laughs in Raid. She scurries under my glass bathroom scale but keeps peeking out like, “I’m still watching you, you minty-mouthed murderer.”
But I’m persistent. I’m determined. I’ve already committed to war. After some back-and-forth, I finally send her to spider heaven. May she rest in peace. Or not.
Now I really have to spit — I’ve been holding a full mouthful of toothpaste through this showdown. I rush to the sink and let it all go…
AND OUT COMES ANOTHER SPIDER.
I SPIT OUT A SPIDER.
Let me repeat: A. SPIDER. EXITED. MY. MOUTH.
So yeah…
I brush my teeth with spiders.
Use their legs as floss.
I’m a certified badass.
(Just kidding — I cried inside. I’m still crying.)
In conclusion, I do not recommend brushing your teeth with arachnids. 0/10 stars. But I now fully understand what that mama spider’s problem was — I took out her kid, and she thought I was with the Spider Mafia Enforcement Squad.
Moral of the story? Always check your sink. And maybe sleep with one eye open… they talk.