Don't look now, but we've got company...
"Sarah" and I made these silly things out of egg cartons yesterday. It's dark and rainy today, so these pictures aren't great, but you get the idea. I really love how they turned out. I'm calling them my Kooky Spooky Spiders. We'll be taking them with us to a party later tonight.
Wednesday morning, it was still dark when I stepped into my office, half awake, shuffling along with that first cup of coffee in my hand, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly not a giant hobo spider perched halfway up the wall.
I don't like killing things, but there's no love for any spider that crosses the threshold of my sanctuary, so I attempted to whack it with my slipper.
Unfortunately, when I closed my eyes and screamed, I missed it by a mile. That always happens. It also didn't help that I was facing the wrong way around. (Don't want to actually see any inflicted carnage either.)
But that misplaced whack sent scary-spider into free fall.
It dropped straight down the wall like MacGyver on a mission, and landed somewhere in a tangle of computer cables, wires, and modems--taking refuge underneath the very desk I sit at now.
It has not been seen since.
That was three days ago. And I'm nervous.
I'm checking every nook and cranny obsessively for fear scary-spider may launch a counter attack when I'm not looking. They're sneaky that way. Just crawling out into the open would be enough to do me in. I also worry that the next paper I shuffle, drawer I open, or pile of stuff I dig through may hold a *surprise*.
And not a good one.
I fear it's only a matter of time before the hairy-legged beast makes a move, and then I can only hope that my brave, huntress cat (who is a renowned spider killer), is on the prowl when it does. She's been on high alert and watching.
All this anxiety hearkens back to previous experiences, because this battle with giant house spiders happens every year when the weather shifts, and actually becomes somewhat of an ongoing situation through fall. For me anyway.
It makes no sense, but I seem to attract them. If there's a spider in the room, it will manage to drop down, crawl out, or suddenly appear right in front of me. Maybe they can smell fear. I don't know. Whatever the reason, I could fill a book about my hair-raising spider adventures.
I won't though, so don't worry.
In fact, I usually keep all this to myself. But something just happened recently, and being Halloween and all, well, I had to share it. It's the stuff of nightmares.
Here's what happened. ..
A few weeks ago, I thought I felt something crawl across my neck as I slept. It's funny how you can be sound asleep, peaceful and dreaming, and yet become instantly wide awake if you think something crawls on you.
Well, I felt something and started flailing. The Mister woke up, rolled over and calmly stared at me. (He's the steady one.) I, not so calmly, told him something was sharing our bed. He obligingly switched on the light and went into the drill.
He flung the quilt, wrangled the blanket, shook the sheets, pummeled the pillows, lifted the dust ruffle, and checked my nightgown.
"All clear", he said climbing back into bed. (He is also used to false alarms.)
After a few more minutes of fussing and stressing and trying to convince myself it was only a stray hair tickling my neck and nothing more, I returned to bed. Just for peace of mind's sake, I peeked under my pillow one last time. And I kid you not.
A spider was underneath it!
My rational belief that a spider, would never-ever hide under a pillow was shattered.
It was a shocking realization.
Needless to say, my scream woke the house, rattled the windows, and sent the neighborhood dogs howling and wailing. I don't remember much else after that, but looking back, I must say, that even though it was an unprecidented horror in the wee hours of the morning, I do feel positively vindicated! (See? I told you. Spiders are after me!)
Of course, now I wish it had scurried away before I'd seen it. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. And it's true. Because it's always in the back of my mind now. That horrible possibility. And it opens the door to all the other horrible possibilities that may seem, not so probable, but could happen. Spooky things cross my mind.
And so, as the temperatures drop, and the creepy-crawlies seek refuge inside, I'll be all twitchy, and itchy, glancing over my shoulder, inspecting under my desk for any signs of movement, and of course, checking under my pillow. Frequently.
Have a safe, and not so spooky Halloween!