(For those of you who like continuity and a semblance of logic, the following is a loose tie-in for this entry: Master Jedi showed me the Kansas City Star headline "Exterminators"--an article about KU's decimation of the Richmond Spiders, which, incidentally, seems like an idiotic choice of a mascot. Who wants to cheer on a creature most people smush underfoot? And what poor schmuck has to dress up in that costume? Anyway--that, coupled with the advent of spring, has spiders in the forefront of my mind.)
Now I have not always quaked in terror upon a spider sighting. Growing up in the country, spiders were commonplace. Large spiders occupied the lower level of our home (some large enough that even Dad didn't want to step on them), and I was often the spider-killer for my older sister. While I certainly did not like them, I was, by no means, deathly afraid.
However, as I grew older, I developed a healthy fear of them. I credit moving away from home and realizing man-eating spiders don't normally live in houses and drop from the ceiling unexpectedly.
Now as a thirty-something mother of three boys, I have been self-diagnosed with Acute Spider Phobia. To further exacerbate the problem, we also live in the country (aka Spider Utopia--you'd think I'd learned something from my childhood, but no.).
I can't handle spiders in any way, shape, or form. I often squeal like a girl when I see them and always scream bloody murder when I try to kill them. It doesn't seem to matter what kind or size they are. They're all awful, and, I'm truly convinced, all out to get me. (Case and point: Why do spiders always come running toward me when I see them? It's like they know I'm an easy target and a slow runner.)
I am convinced that if I die in a car crash, it will be due to a spider. Out here, they seem to find a way into cars and then dangle from the ceiling in your peripheral vision, taunting you with threats of climbing into your ear canal and laying millions of eggs. Seriously, how can anyone be expected to drive with eight-legged death mocking you?
Just the other day while driving to my mom's, I put my precious children at risk when I discovered a little black spider scampering up my thigh--obviously heading for the jugular--and me going 55 mph. With unbecoming shrieks and dangerous swerving, I was able to successfully pull over and fling the varmint from my person, then eviscorating it with an ice scraper. It was a close call.
Even though Spring has not fully made up her mind, the touch-n-go warming trends have started to awaken those loathsome creatures. Just a couple of days ago, I saw a small black one taunting me from beneath the workshop table. I responded by hauling out the industrial strength Orthomax spider killer and dousing my entire workshop (parts and all) in poison.
I fear my love of discarded objects, coupled with my artistic disorganization, screams spider sanctuary. So in response, I say to you spiders, big and small, young and old:
"May this weekend's weird cold snap kill you savage creatures as you crawl out from your dark chasms of evil! Die, spiders, die!"
And thus concludes today's Springtime Rant.