How is that for an approximation of my fear of spiders, mainly black widows? And the occasional brown recluse. Frankly, the brown ones are the ones that scare the panties off me, literally.
Some back ground: I got bitten by a black widow spider while on vacation almost 20 years ago. I was setting up camp in shorts (never ever done that again) when I felt first one incredible sting followed by a second equally shocking sting. One ER appointment identifying two tiny sets of bites on my calf muscle, the whole leg from the knee down swelled and turned black and blue. I only vomited for a week and mostly laid in a hammock while my vacation passed me by. As a result, I am really afraid of small, shiny black spiders.
But more so am I afraid of tiny brown twitchy spiders with violin patterns on their backs. I have seen several friends develop deep oozing wounds that didn't heal as the flesh liquefied and essentially melted away. Um, no, really don't like the little brown twitchy guys.
Being a life-long camper/hiker/paddler tree hugging dirt worshiper I come in contact with wildlife quite often. Usually we don't harm each other. Aside from a few brushes with yellow jacket nests, some fell-off-a-cliff stories, and maybe one or two bad bites, we mostly don't hurt each other. I can say I have rarely killed anything outside on purpose.
But inside my house, ah, the tables turn. Ever since Virginia entered some kind of wild-weather tropical storm zone, we have had an influx of tiny shiny black spiders, some with tell-tail red, yellow, or white hourglasses on their bellies or backs. Most die as soon as I spot them, hour glass or no. Not fooling around here. Nope.
I have become especially careful of my clothing. I shook one out of my pjs that were resting on the edge of the master bath tub recently, and shook another little black effer out of my panties, right before I put them on. It seems the laundry room level is over run and they hide in the clean laundry, get carried upstairs, and what? Lie in wait for me? No. I am not the tiny spider's normal prey. So there must be other bugs coming in for them to eat.
Now, you just heard the one panties story. Today, as if that were not enough, I stripped off my workout clothes down by the wash. I picked up a pair of boxers I leave down there for this purpose but right before pulling them on gave them a quick shake and out falls a tiny twitchy brown spider. I give it just enough once over and my husband witnesses a cry of foul curses wafting up the stairs. No messing around confirming my ID. No sir, that's one great big cup of NOPE. Into the hot wash with you, little brown twitchy sir.
I, ugh, hate this. I hate not knowing when the next bite will come and the fear it will be in a super sensitive area, like my boo-tay.
As if I were not already anxious enough? I need a good dose of "home invasion" anxiety to go with the "I'm about to lose my job" anxiety, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment