One day we were coming home from the grocery store and we marched all the way up to the apartment to the delightful surprise of a GI-NORMOUS spider lurking in the corner in her/his(?) web of doom.
Being a scienc-y and fairly nature-y person I really don’t mind insects, arachnids, reptiles, and whathaveyou. What I do have a problem with is when these things move really fast so I can’t predict where they are going, and when they hide to reveal themselves unexpectedly in a swervy and unpredictable pattern of motion. Or when that tickle doesn’t feel so fun anymore when you realize an animal is crawling on you to create the sensation and it’s probably not a unicorn kiss. Duncan and Smudge crawling on me – my brain has accepted that. Small far jumping, crawly thing likely to startle me and maybe bite me? Not so much.
I think part of that is from when I was little and I found a spider, or something equally as quick and probably likely to climb into my pant leg, inside of a shoe that I unfortunately put my foot in to find. Lasting trauma.
So anyway, a spider generally doesn’t bother me until I start to imagine it crawling all over my being and into my stuff. Sharing is caring and all (right, Dad?) but I don’t want to share my couch or pillow or socks or shoes or shower with life form that, like I said earlier, just moves so darn fast and I don’t know where it’s going to go!
Well, as we were walking up to the door and observing this specimen Adam had the awareness to point out that, “At least they don’t know how to open the door.” That is, unless they have a key. Then we’re S.O.L. for sure and I can expect it to take its revenge on me for writing about it online without its permission.