spider

Dear Spider.

You gave me a small heart attack last week when I first saw you.  There you were, in the crevice of my trunk lining - exposed as I opened the back of the car to load the groceries in.  I jumped back, palm of my hand to my heart and exclaimed "oh my goodness"  Because, you see, I don't like spiders.  Sorry.  It's not you, it's me.

I mean, I can tolerate your average spider - small and skinny.  I still do not like them, and if they are in the house, I attack.  To be fair, I do not kill spiders if they are not on my property.  Unfortunately, for you, my car is considered my property.

And also, unfortunately for you, you fall into the category I like to call "scary spiders"  It's pure aesthetics, buddy.  Not much you can do about it really.  As if your big black furry body weren't enough, the fact that you were large enough for me to see your eyes (why must you have so many eyes?) and your little pinchers (fangs? I dunno) landed you squarely on the DNR list (do not rescue, of course).

So after I recovered from my initial fright - I turned to ensure the kids didn't notice my panic.  When I looked back, you were gone.  I looked for you, but couldn't find you.  I eventually decided I had scanned the interior of the trunk adequately, loaded the groceries and returned home.  But, every time I opened the trunk - I scanned that  lining before doing anything.  Never saw you.

And, I get it, I have to park under that big tree outside, and you undoubtedly were living nicely in that tree when a gust of wind landed you on my car.  You probably thought you'd won the jackpot - I mean, I obviously NEVER wash the car...and it came with so many good hiding places.  I can totally understand why you stuck around.

Anyway, a few days passed, and I didn't see you.  I'd almost dismissed you.  Until I was parking the other day and I saw you on my windshield...on the outside.

Ah-HA!  Gotcha.  On went the wipers.  But, my plan failed, because you were too big to be squished or damaged, and instead, were just scooted out of sight.  ....an annoying habit on your part.

And then, I believe it was the next morning, when I hopped into the driver seat and felt - what I thought - might have been a spiderweb strand brush across my arm.  Somewhere deep in my brain, I knew you were capable of getting into the car, and I knew that the presence of a spiderweb in my car was not good news for me.  But - I did not have time (or the willingness) to entertain the idea - and so, I dismissed you, again.

But today was it.  I was taking Kyle to work and you, once again, were suddenly on my windshield - directly in my line of vision.  Except this time, you were on the inside (panic!).  How did you get there so suddenly?  Were you hanging out above my sunshade all morning?  The idea freaks me out.  I didn't want to cause 1) a crash or 2) a panicked Kyle (who likes spiders even less than I do), so I put on my big girl pants and managed to keep driving for a second until I could safely pull over.

I can't believe I had nothing to fight with.  I didn't want to take of my shoes on the side of the road.  I reached in my diaper bag and pulled out a package of wipes.  I half threw them at you and half tried to smash you (again, it's not personal, but you were scary).  You fell into my seat - alive.  The wipes, while big and heavy, were not really solid enough to do you in properly.  Instead - you crawled in the crack between the seat and backrest.  Not a cool move.  After what seemed like an eternity, I got you back out with the aid of a pointy umbrella end (ah-ha!).  You were still alive (EEK!).  We tried the package of wipes a few more times and - you appeared to have passed.  I thought.

And this is where the most unfortunate thing happens.

I tried to get you out of my seat using the silly pointy umbrella - but it was too tricky and instead of getting you out of the car - I accidently pushed you into a small hole so that you, once again, posthumously, disappeared under my driver's seat.  ....somewhere.

I tried and tried to find you because, quite frankly, I didn't want you in the car dead or alive.  And, because I have an active imagination, I convinced myself that you were just playing dead earlier and/or had the power to regenerate...as insects seem to have the ability to do.

Well, no dice.  I resorted to stuffing the hole, and most of my driver seat crease with baby wipes.  I was upset.  I did not want to drive.  I did not want to sit down in the car.  But, I had to.  And, yes, I suppose the joke's on me because from that point on - every tiny tickle or itch was, in my mind, you- the (now) zombie-spider back for revenge.

Please.  If you are still alive.  Don't harm the children.

But, I hope you're dead.
(again, nothing personal)