You know you’ve gone over the edge when you start mistaking tufts of pet hair for spider corpses.
Yep. That was me. Last night. Much to Hubby’s chagrin.
I am not touching that. Please, please, please get it for me… For Pete’s sake! It’s just some cat hair! Oh.
I hate spiders. I am terrified of them. And pretty much all bugs. I really, really freak out when they come in the house.
And I live in Mississippi. AKA…Bugland.
Just last week, I was so glad that I had to depart the pool because of thunderstorms. I had been sharing it with ginormous cockroaches, one of which had drifted into my lane. In fact, I had already moved over a lane, Mr. Cockroach could have his own. (Remember: no lane sharing at my pool.)
But. I have to say, my phobia has led to some great stories…
Like this one time when I was a teenager. Mom and Dad and one of my brothers were out, and I was “in charge” of my sister and two other brothers. I walked into the living room and, ‘lo and behold, a HUGE wolf spider. (I was going to include a picture, but it creeped me out so much, I couldn’t do it.)
I don’t remember if I actually screamed.
I know didn’t faint. And then I did what every older sister does…I made my siblings take care of it.
Word on the street was my sister had recently plucked a spider out of the cat’s litterbox, so she was voted, by majority, the official “spider catcher.” We didn’t care that said spider was just a daddy longlegs, which was a heck of a lot less intimidating than the palm-sized, hairy monster hanging out in the middle of our living room.
Needless to say, my sister objected mightily, but being a classic middle child, finally caved.
Implements of death and destruction were gathered: a paper lunch bag and a child-sized hoe.
A strategy was conceived: coax the spider into the paper bag by poking at it with the hoe.
That worked well.
Nature note: wolf spiders move really, really fast.
My sister and I screamed. My brothers laughed hysterically. However, they certainly didn’t get any closer to the spider, as I recall.
Finally, somehow, the spider, cornered against the wall behind the couch, obliged and took shelter in the paper bag.
Now. Who’s going to pick up the paper bag and dump the spider out?
Well, certainly not me. And my sister had had enough and retreated to another room entirely. I don’t remember exactly, but one of my brothers must have finally been brow-beaten enough by me to acquiesce. But I do remember the long, high-pitched wail as the brother ran with the bag in his hand to the front door to toss the it and the spider out into the front yard (for my other brother, the one who was out, to find the next day…turns out the spider was still in the bag…hah).
Anyway, my big sisterly duties done, I decided to go to my room for some homework or something. There was another spider on the staircase.