Arachnophobia

I don't like spiders. They scare me shitless. I can't even look at one in a magazine or on my computer. I have to quickly turn the page or scroll past at light speed. I'm not sure why as I know that realistically they can't move off media to jump out at me and bite my ass. Tell that to my ass though.

I've had my share of spider horror stories although I have never been bitten - surprisingly. No doubt I have come close as I have wandered about in the garden or bushland in blissful ignorance. I'm of the opinion of what I don't know won't hurt me. It's the in-your-face stuff that makes my hair stand on end and my brain melt into my spinal cord.

My first experience was the result of a rare good deed in my teenage years and probably why I never offered to vacuum my room ever again. My mother housed the offending crusty old vacuum cleaner in an old box in a dark cupboard and out of the light - an obvious favourite haunt of the eight-legged horror which I felt rather than saw as I put my bare foot on an enormous huntsman that continued to wriggle its way to freedom out from under my foot and between my toes. I doubt very much that my bare feet hit the floor for the rest of the day. The offending horror also disappeared back into the cupboard, no doubt to re-establish his territory in his new vacuumless surroundings and I disappeared to my friend's house until the place was fumigated. I tend to wear footwear everywhere these days except in the shower.

I managed to avoid any more chance encounters until a night on the town with my future husband turned into a nightmare as I walked through a group of trees near our destination and straight into the biggest spider web that I never saw. I'm sure I looked the picture of grace and elegance hopping around grasping at the sticky stuff and screaming but when my date walked up to me and flicked a huge spider to the ground that was dancing around on my head, I lost it completely. He still talks about my screaming sprint away from the still-scuttling marauder down past the jazz club windows while the patrons cheered me on.

A few years after that my son and I were downstairs sweeping when we spotted a large huntsman in the corner of the ceiling. Commonsense and past experience prevailed and I left it alone but not my braveheart son who decided to poke it with his broom - which knocked it to the floor and straight up his shorts. I am ashamed to say that I laughed so hard I cried - until the wretched thing ran down his prancing legs and straight up mine.

My last and most recent experience once again involved my son. We were outside after dark putting out the garbage and spotted the largest red back spider we had ever seen at eye-level in our carport. We got close enough to have a good look at it to verify the large red stripe running down its abdomen when it darted towards us and the sensor light went out at the same time. We nearly knocked each other out in the dark as we bravely scrambled to get as far away from it as possible. We both lived to tell the tale, however, and the spider was dispatched with haste.

I see a few huntsman spiders here now and again but I leave them alone. I figure if I don't bother them then they won't bother me but if I find one in the shower with me, however, then all bets are off.