I am many things, but I am not an entymologist. I am brave, but not where insects are concerned. I will face snow and ice, wind, rain, monsoons, tornados. I am one of the 5 people in a room of 100 who would not panic if a gun wielding lunatic were locked into a small room with me. But. I am not a fan of spiders.
I’ve always known that if I have Alzheimers when I am old, I will hallucinate spiders. It’s not good news. My sweet brother (M.S.B.) has always taken care of me in this regard, killing the monsters that attack me. Once, in an effort to provide my subconscious with some relief, we caught a very large spider in a paper cup, poured cheap vodka over it, and lit it. Sadly, the spider was still living when the cup burned to the ground. It was inebriate and cringing, but it lived.
So my vendetta grew to consume me.
Well….at any rate, the world of Arachnia owes me, and not just because it has 8 creepy legs instead of 2 or 4.
One day in December, I was cold. Obvious, perhaps, but it was extreme. Drafts poured in from my bedroom window, my electric outlets, my air conditioning vent and my patio window. I was keeping my heat down to try to keep my bill down. In the past, I have suffered, or gone to bed. This day, I chose to fight back. I lit some candles, drew a very hot bath, prepared a book nearby and turned on my mini laptop to play nice music. I kept my phone nearby to keep track of time.
My grandparents called me. Guilt assailed me. They had just paid for my ticket to Arizona to visit them on their anniversary. I’d better answer. I figured it was grandma. Usually, I’d have been right, but I was wrong. Ok, so talking to grandpa in the bathtub…ok…yeah. I considered ways to wrap up the call fast.
Fate put an end to the call.
My eyes were drawn to the movement. Where the showerhead attached to the wall, there is a screw hole without a screw in it. To this I idly looked. Horror grew as, leg by leg, a GIGANTIC spider emerged. It was as surprised as I was, for it lost its balance and fell. Falling, falling. 4 feet of air and it hit the water, MY water, my BATH water. I exited the tub in a flood of water and vulgarity. The phone was left behind, drowning in the bubbly water with the evil beast. Fishing out the phone, I stared at the wriggling nightmare. It was sectioned. It had too many legs. It was hairy! It was as big as….as big as…. as…a nickel!
That was not how I meant to hang up. I dragged my bottom to the clubhouse where I get internet to email my grandparents that I was ok so that they wouldn’t worry. So much for warming up.
My phone, sans battery, called my grandparent’s number dozens of times in the next hour.
So I say to you, Arachnids all, you owe me the following.
1) a phone
2) a warm day
3) peace of mind
4) the internet in my house
5) NEVER TO SHOW YOUR HAIRY LEGGY PARTI-BODIED FACES IN MY HOUSE AGAIN!