Believe it or not, there is something that I despise more than the snow and the cold. I know, that’s rather difficult to imagine, but I do. I despise spiders. In fact, if given the choice between having to endure an eternity of snow and cold or having a spider crawl on me, I would absolutely pick the former, no question about it. Yes, I really do hate them that much.

I realize that this is animosity is more than likely ill-placed. Spiders are good. They eat other bugs that are actually bad. That’s wonderful, but these well known facts aren’t going to sway me. Spiders are nasty, evil looking creatures. I dare say, that if I had been present when St. Patrick liberated the Emerald Isle of snakes, I would have first taken him aside and implored him to include spiders in that forced evacuation (and then perhaps pleaded with him to go ahead and do it for the Americas as well, since that one obviously impacts me much more at this point in my life).

I will admit that I have come a long way in my lack of affection for these arachnids. I still do not like them one iota, but I can at least tolerate them in the house. It used to be that if I even had an inkling that there might be one even in the remote vicinity, I would avoid that area like the plague. In fact, just yesterday, I jumped into the shower to clean up quickly before someone downstairs blew up the house or something. I had just wet my hair and was ready to shampoo when I saw a rather large spider in the corner of the shower, near the showerhead. In days of old, I would have run, screaming from the shower, attempting to find someone to exterminate the intruder ( I couldn’t touch it, for there was always the fear that it might fall on me when I went near it…the very thought makes my blood run cold). So rather than do all of that, and quite possibly make a rather large fool of myself in the process (although it wouldn’t be the first time), I kept my cool and very quickly finished my shower. It wasn’t too much fun knowing that those beedy little spider eyes were watching, just waiting for the right moment to fall on me (I’m very sure that’s what it was thinking…spiders are very predictable like that), but I did it. Afterwards, I calmly went downstairs and found my eldest son, and told him to dispose of the vile creature. I do think that he did so in a humanitarian way…he seems to like the nasty little beasts.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever like spiders. But I do tend to think that we shall be able to live somewhat harmoniously together…so long as they don’t come near me. If they can hold up to that end of the bargain, then I’ll allow them to live on joyfully in the corners of my house, feasting away on all the flies they desire. And I’ll try to pretend that they just don’t exist at all.

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