It is no secret that I, along with most of my gender, dislike spiders. I find them creepy and intrusive, and the only thing worse than finding them in my living space is having them actually touch me. My family have been trying to convince me for years that my dislike of spiders is based on an irrational belief that they mean me harm, but to no avail. I still prefer to live in a spider-free environment, and proceed to kill or order the killing of spiders on a regular basis (only the ones that happen to be invading my space- it isn't like I hunt them out). In fact, my version of utopia may just be a world where spiders existed, but I never had to see or touch them.
When we first moved in I found a spider crawling around in our bedroom, but for days it evaded us. I became used to seeing it everyday and chased it into a cupboard or under the bed. Then one Saturday Ross killed it for me. Normally I would feel relief at this knowledge, but I had been thinking about Charlotte's Web that day and felt guilty that we had murdered what I was momentarily convinced was a friendly spider. But to spare myself any further intrusion or guilt, I decided it would be best if no more spiders came around.
Unfortunately, the spiders in Scotland did not get my memo to stay away. For the last couple weeks I have been finding thick black spiders much too frequently and concerningly always in the same place- our bathroom. All our windows are closed. Where are they coming from?!
My husband, the designated spider-killer, suggested my worst fear- that the spiders are coming in through our drains... My mind immediately flashes back to the nightmares I used to have (and sometimes still have) about creepy crawly things pouring out of the drains in mass and attacking unsuspecting humans. NOT IN THIS HOUSE, spiders! Shudder
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