Battle spider eggs
This weekend's Halloween-ish activities kicked off with a load of creepy crawlies and a loud screech. Arriving at the barn early on Friday evening with a few hours to kill, I naturally, and stupidly, volunteered for cleaning duty. Note to self and everyone else - never ever volunteer for cleaning duty where the outdoors are concerned.
Three of us girls, including my trainer, armed with an industrial strength wet/dry vacuum cleaned out locker after locker. We sucked up dirty stall shavings, dead (and alive) cockroaches, round, wriggling worms of indeterminate origins, and spider eggs. Yep - we're talking brown recluse / black widow spider eggs danging from masses of cobwebs as thick as your hair. Big old spider eggs the size of peas.
I think we took turns yelling "This is sick!" every two minutes. It was pretty much the grossest thing I've ever done, and that includes using a port-a-potty this Oktoberfest. For a good hour afterwards, I was brushing invisible spiders and roaches off my arms and scratching at nonexistent bites. However, between the battle of spider eggs vs. girls, the girls emerged from the fray triumphant (and unbitten).
Just don't ask us to empty the vacuum cleaner.