Mushy, Gushy Spider

I don’t like spiders. I don’t care that they eat mosquitoes. I can kill my own mosquitoes. spider-452489_1280It’s their appearance that makes me half close an eye and shudder. I can’t even look at pictures without convulsing. They’re hideous from afar. Their supreme ugliness is comparable to the most beautiful flower. I don’t discriminate either; the hairy, hand-like Tarantula, the gawky Daddy Long Legs, the infamous, poisonous, big-bellied Black Widow, the nameless house spider with the chunky body and appendages that looks like it does steroids, the little one that jumps at you when you go in for the kill, I hate them all.

Now, I’ll allow that they’re interesting in an “eww, gross” sort of way. Think about it. They’re predators equipped with the means to make their own traps. Thank God they work alone or I’m sure my husband would wake up some morning to an over-sized cocoon. As I stated in my last post, this is why I live in Alberta. It’s too cold for bugs most of the time. My husband says he lives here because there aren’t any sharks. We all have our hang ups, don’t we?spider-web-with-water-beads-921039_1280

One of my first memories of spiders takes place when I was in elementary school. We were at a campground in Michigan. Someone had uncovered a large, speckled brown, Wolf spider. The sight of it so frightened me that I immediately flipped to flight mode. I ran like Forrest Gump, as fast as I could go, not knowing where to, not sure when it was safe to stop, without a thought that this repulsive, albeit unassuming, creature whose slumber in that warm bed of sand, we had disturbed, wasn’t chasing me.

If they would just stay outside, I wouldn’t mind them as much. It’s when they creep up in my space that I get wiggy. Just the other day, I was eating lunch at work in a room I frequent and noticed three spiders, all of them distinctly different from each other, spider-166159_1280minding there own business around me. Clearly, they had staked their claim and I would need to find another place to drop my crumbs! That room wasn’t big enough for a grown woman and three bitty spiders! I know how irrational this is. I’m a giant by comparison and mostly these homely invaders are harmless, but their size, for me, doesn’t diminish their scariness and killing them is a better alternative to trying to keep track of where they are in a room in relation to myself.

Oh, I can kill them, but it takes a very large wad of paper towel. When the culprit is smothered safely inside (I’m only concerned about my safety here), I smush that ball with all my might. That fragile bit of black, spindly goo has to be way dead, pretty much pulverized, before I deposit the remains. I don’t put it on the ground and stomp on it, because that would be excessive. However, in the instant that one of these innocent creatures attaches itself to my personage, I get fruit loopy. My husband once killed a spider in a room I was cleaning. (Yes, when I was younger, I did clean things. I’ve now realized the error of my ways.) Later, that scoundrel returned when I was vacuuming and ran a broom up my leg. Why a person doesn’t calmly identify the location of the tiny trespasser and then flick it off, I don’t know, but my husband took great pleasure in watching me instantly morph into a deranged, twitchy spaz while wailing that oldie but goodie, “Get it Off”.

I recall, and not so fondly, one set of spiders I encountered when camping in California. My sister and her two small girls and I went to use the showers. There was a huge spider, and spider-1293803_12802this is no exaggeration, stationed at the entrance, which should have deterred me from going in. There were two shower stalls. Both had ceilings dappled with friends of the creepy she-devil outside. My sister proceeded to force her young into one of the stalls; they were screaming and crying like adults who’ve misplaced their cell phones. I, at a fair distance, surveyed the remaining stall, and despite the horror show happening in the corner, walked calmly over to the mirrors to assess the situation. I did a quick pit sniff. Yeah, I thought, looking at my greasy, stringy reflection, I could go another day. I vowed right there, if I ever had children and encountered a similar scene, we would all be dirty, but spider-free.

Posts come out every Monday morning, a poem every third Monday. Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Follow me on Instagram username: pollyeloquent. Thanks for reading. 🙂

3 thoughts on “Mushy, Gushy Spider

  1. Bonjour Polly,
    Même une phobie peut être drôle à raconter! Et tu sais très bien le faire!
    Araignée du soir, espoir…comme on dit en France!
    Donc il ne faut pas les tuer! 😉
    Heureusement que tu n’habites pas à l’île de la Réunion comme ma fille, les araignées sont énormes 😂😂
    Bonne soirée

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Chère Pascale,
      Merci de prendre le temps de lire mon blog et pour votre soutien continu et des mots aimables sur Instagram! Je suis content que ça t’ait plu. J’ai essayé d’obtenir plus de cette phobie, mais il semble impossible, surtout si je voyage quelque part et les araignées s’agrandir! Un jour heureux pour toi, mon ami!


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