Today is Friday 13th. Today
the spawn of Satan flew through my window and landed on my lap with a
plop. A big, fat, juicy, hairy eight legged fiend. Today
I was reminded that I really don’t like spiders. I have had therapy
for my spider phobia and I really thought I had combatted the worst of
it. I even became fascinated by them and their amazing abilities but
with Funnel Web spiders constantly inhabiting the windows in my bedroom and
‘quick as lightening’ White Tail spiders falling off the light fittings in the
kitchen onto my head, I feel that my phobia has come full circle again.
Not a great start to Friday
13th. I’m not usually superstitious but come on! I
was driving to work and decided to wind the window down to feel a little summer
breeze on my face and in my hair. The temperature was a pleasant
20°C, on its way up to a top of 34°C. I pulled up at the lights and
was patiently waiting for them to change when out of the corner of my eye I
spied movement…something large by the look of it. Then the mother of
all Huntsman spiders plopped onto my lap and I completely flipped out. Instead
of screaming like a normal human, I took my hands off the wheel and flapped
about, making squeaky “ Eeeeeeeek!” noises like a complete
girl. This HUGE fucker was just sitting there, enjoying the comfort
of my lap. I involuntarily started pushing my feet on the floor
& brake pedal so hard that I was almost planking in the front seat. Spooked
by the hardening of my thighs, the spider crawled up my lap, over my stomach
and over my arm at great speed. Still sitting at the lights, I had a
completely spastic fit and during the fit, the spider flicked up under the rain
guard over my side window, shooting webs all over my arm and the side of my
face. My ‘Eeeeeeeh” was starting to sound like the wail of a siren
to my own ears. I didn’t want Mr Spider to die – I just wanted him
outside of my car and away from me. Hands shaking, I very slowly
(didn’t want to spook the fucker again) moved my hand to the automatic window
winder button … and I wound the window up. The window went up with
the speed of a sloth and the spider started to back up, but not quickly enough
and three of its legs got caught in the window. The spider sat
there for a moment and then it started having its own fit. This was
like being in some horror movie, my horrified expression certainly resembled
‘Ghostface’ – it was so close to my face and my brain would not
acknowledge the glass between us. I was now squealing like a stuck
pig inside my car and shaking violently like a Chihuahua with pneumonia. To
my horror, it then tore off its own legs (probably got frightened by my hideous
face screaming at it in the window) and amazingly, I apologised to it in the
same squealing voice I had used to scream at it. I had gone
completely mental! Anyone looking at my car from the outside
would have thought I was perhaps having exciting sex in it, such was the
bouncing movement and squeals coming from within. Unfortunately, I
was alone and not enjoying the moment. The lights turned green and I
reluctantly drove on. Spidey learned to fly.
Only a couple of months
ago, I was cleaning the windows in my bedroom when I spied the tell-tale signs
of a funnel web in the corner of my double hung sash window. I
rattled the window a little and out came the long, shiny front legs. Eeeeek! I
ran for sixteen year old Miss Marvellous, who fears NOTHING, and asked her to
come with me whilst I killed it. This doesn’t sit well with her as
she’d rather we didn’t kill it – but I was adamant. So the window I
had just cleaned was now white with a film of spray; the web decorated with
white drops when out climbs a four centimetre evil looking, shiny maker of
nightmares and just walks around like I hadn’t drowned it in spray. These
hardy bastards are hard to kill and take way too long to even LOOK affected by
the spray. I emptied another half a can on it for good measure,
muttering to myself about my desire to nuke the fucker. Then it
stretches all of its legs so it almost doubles in length and I start backing
out of the room, my hands wrapped around my daughter’s arm. Miss
Marvellous gives me ‘are you serious’ face, glares down at my hands strangling
her upper arm and back at my face. “Really? And
you’re how old?” Fuck off, I’m freaking out! The
spider started walking in jerking movements and then fell off the window sill
and plopped onto the floor. I was torn between wanting to jump into my
daughter’s arms and climb on top of her head to safety. I then said
“Ooh, it’s dying. I’m sorry spidey” and she looked at me like I was
completely bipolar. It took about fifteen minutes to die and about
two hours for the Heebee Jeebees to leave my body. I still made Miss
Marvellous scoop it up and put it in the bin – just in case it was pretending to
be dead. We usually don’t kill spiders in our house but White Tails and Funnel
Webs are the exception to the rule because I’m petrified of them; but that
doesn’t mean I don’t feel remorse.
Another memorable occasion
prior to that was about six years ago and long before the renovation. I
was standing at the kitchen bench when I felt something drop onto my
head. I put my hand up, expecting to feel a drop of water but
something moved. So of course I started break dancing and stutter rapping
all over the kitchen until the spider ran down my face and onto the
bench. Seeing it was a White Tail, I yipped like a kicked puppy
and ran out of the room, arms flailing above my head like ET, to see the
startled look on Boy Wonder’s face. Yes, Mother has completely lost
her marbles! He asked what was wrong and I replied that I saw something
scary. Then the fucking terrorist crawled up over the bench and
dropped onto the floor and started running as fast as its eight legs could
carry it across the floor. I leapt onto my son’s lap and told him to
pull his feet up. He looked at me like I has just stepped off a
space ship. To be truthful, I would rather have been surrounded by
aliens probing every orifice with all manner of instruments than dealing with
this little beastie on my living room floor. Finally deciding to be
an adult about it, I went into the kitchen, giving the little fiend a wide
berth, and came back with a can of Mortein. I sprayed the little
creature, running after it with the spray, leaving a trail of white across my
floor. I then went to join my son on the couch until it had shrivelled
sufficiently for me to relax. Unfortunately, on my way back to the couch,
I slipped over in the meters of slippery spray on the floor and landed like
with a “Kurumph”; the sound
startlingly reminiscent of thunder, my face inches from the irate spider who
had reared up and was in attack position. I must have teleported
into the kitchen because I don’t remember getting there, I just materialised
before the sink. Like the mature adult that I am, I climbed up onto the kitchen
bench and sat rocking against the splashback, trying to calm my frazzled
nerves. My son was warily watching me, mirth crimping his
eyes. Little shit. Well I am glad I can provide
entertainment for my children, if nothing else.
Today’s little visitor in
the car has left me with the stiffness of a pulled muscle in the shoulder and
every other muscle in my body quivering like I’ve just left an aerobics
tournament. I keep shaking and shuddering all over and
just a moment ago, a hair fell out of my head onto my foot and I almost performed
a backflip in the office – my spidey senses are tingling. Shudder - spiders
shit me!
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