I have to admit something: I'm afraid of spiders. I get a shiver of revulsion when I even see a picture of a spider. The terrible thing is, I feel that it is a rather absurd fear. When you look at the size of a spider compared to the size of a human, I've kind of got the upper hand in that department. Despite that knowledge, the appearance of a spider never fails to get a reaction similar to this from me:
I just can't handle them. And even though I don't like them, I can't kill them. For one thing, I don't want to get close enough to inflict lethal damage. Also, I can't shake the feeling that if I do kill a spider, all of its spider kin will band together and go on a quest to avenge its death.
|From Open House for Butterflies by Ruth Krauss|
The only thing worse than seeing a spider is seeing one...and then, suddenly, not seeing it.
Many moons ago (okay, actually a couple years ago), I went in my room to get a book, and I suddenly noticed something on the wall. I let out a small gasp. It was a spider. Well, a daddy-long-legs to be precise. So technically not a spider. But still rather large and inexplicably disturbing. Now, in my own defense, I have picked up daddy-long-legs countless times...outside. Somehow, it was quite different having one on the wall by my bed. I went and unlocked the back door. At least I was going to be merciful. Cringing inwardly (well, probably outwardly too), I gingerly picked it up by one leg...only to find that I had a leg in my hand but no spider.
Thoroughly grossed out, I watched in horror as the spider fell among my bedsheets. I threw back the covers and tossed each of my stuffed animals (yes, I still had stuffed animals on my bed at 18 years old) off after careful inspections, but the horrid creature was nowhere to be found.
Like I said, it is one thing to know a spider is near you and to have it in your sight. But it is quite another thing to know a spider is near you--in your bed, no less--and you can’t see it.
I steadily lost my nerve as I continued searching among the sheets. Finally, when I yanked back part of the quilt, there it was, looking rather squished. Quite horrified, I cautiously moved the blanket to see if it would move. It did, startlingly fast. I was in no shape to catch it now. I just stood there by my bed, wringing my hands in a state of utter consternation.
Thankfully, my lovely mother came in just then and realized what was going on. The traumatized bug was deposited safely outside and traumatized me fixed my dismantled bed. Mom, if you're reading this, thank you for all the spiders you've gotten rid of for me. I will never forget it.
Have a wonderful day, dear readers.