Spiders Know I Hate Them

I don’t like spiders. I have never liked spiders. I hate to be picky, but they embody two things that I really hate: 1) they’re creepy-looking, and 2) they scuttle. I think that if they just strolled around instead of scuttling, I might like them better.

No, I wouldn’t. There is absolutely nothing I find redeeming about them, and I’m a person who can find something nice about nearly everyone. But spiders? No. They are horrible, and worst of all, they all know I hate them.

One time I found one on my window shade, which was down at the time. I quickly snapped the shade up so it made that satisfying ‘flappity-flap-flap-flap’ that meant it wasn’t coming down anytime soon. I figured that the spider must have expired; I mean, to a spider, that would have been like a train wreck, right?

Days later, when the sun became so bright I had to pull the shade back down, there he was. And he was not dead, either. He slowly pulled himself up to his former size and then scuttled off. I just know he knew I did it, and was going to come after me in the night. So I stayed overnight at a friend’s house. I would have moved right out of the apartment, but couldn’t afford to. The next day I vacuumed every square inch of the place, hoping I sucked him up. Just in case I did and he was still in there, I put the vacuum cleaner out in the hall.

I read somewhere that most of us will unconsciously eat several bugs (including spiders!) while sleeping. So I tried sleeping with a gauze mask over my mouth, only to find it on the floor in the morning. I certainly never remembered taking it off, either. I think that spiders removed it, and then jumped into my mouth.

Years later when I found I had sleep apnea, I was thrilled to go to bed each night wearing a bipap mask. HA! No way those eight-legged little suckers could stroll down my throat whenever they pleased! I slept extremely well not only because I was wearing the mask, but also because I knew that there was no way any spiders could get to me.

And then I thought, ‘oh no! The HOSE!’ There is a long hose that attaches to the mask, and I started thinking about if the spiders figured out how to sneak down the hose. That way they could bide their time until I attached the mask to the hose, turned on the machine and then they would be jet-propelled into my airway!

So that meant an entire afternoon of taking the machine apart and cleaning it and the hose, then closing the end of the hose with masking tape. That way I could be sure that my hose, mask and airway would be spider-proofed until I hooked up for the night.

Well, creepy little masterminds that they are, they begin to appear that very night one by one on the ceiling right over my head. I was forced to detach myself from the mask, turn on the light and then hunt them down and kill them. Only then could I get back in bed and re-attach myself, settle into sleep. Then I thought ‘wait a minute. If you see one spider, there must be more!’ Then I’d have to get up again and go hunting.

Well, I suppose that by now you think that I’m making this much more than it needs to be. But really, they are smarter than we give them credit for–they really do know that I hate them and they are out to get me.

But at least we don’t live where the spiders are as large as snow crabs and hairy to boot. Let’s hope that they don’t have some kind of arachnid “Inter-web” to let the big ones know where we live.

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