Last night I was the bravest of the brave.

I like to think I'm the man of the house. I'm fearless when it comes to protecting my family. I'll charge you like a raging bull if you come too close to my girls. At night, if I hear a noise, I'll barrel towards the thump like I'm Jack Bauer in an episode of the hit TV show 24.

So when I was in the lounge downstairs last night  and I heard my wife scream in the upstairs bathroom I shot up there faster than a bullet from the Lone Ranger's gun.

I wasn't prepared for what I saw though, and I think Nicole saw the flicker of indecision in my eyes. Do I act brave and rescue the fair damsel, or do I run down the stairs faster than she did?

It was a spider. Johannesburg had incessant rain yesterday and with it the 8 legged critters headed inwards for dryer conditions. I'm not quite sure why spiders give me the creeps, especially the ones with meaty abdomens covered with little hairs.

The only thing worse than seeing a spider... is suddenly not seeing it, and I had an image of me going to the bathroom at 3am and it's no longer on the blinds.  And then when I'm sitting on the loo it comes out from under the toilet lid and takes nibble out of my goose waddle.

So with that image in mind, I dashed to cupboard to get the best tool to arm yourself with when doing a stare down with an arachnid... I got tupperware. I found the biggest (see through) bowl and re-enacted Stephen King's novel "Under the dome". I got it.

Then I did what any self-respecting home owner would do who lives in a complex... I catapulted the spider into the neighbour's garden. Our family slept soundly.

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