Spider Victory

            I didn’t even hyperventilate.  But I used a phone book followed by two Kleenexes to do away with the daddy long legs.

            A couple nights ago, I noticed I had company:  a daddy long legs above my bed right where wall meets ceiling.  Amazingly enough, I calmly decided to let him hang out there—though I did sleep on the other side of the bed so I wasn’t directly underneath him. 

            You see, I have a bit of a phobia about spiders in general and daddy long legs in particular.  Two memories from childhood stand out.  First is the neighbor girl when we lived in the trailer in the country near Charlotte, Michigan.  She, my sister Priscilla Ann, and I were crouched down in the yard in front of our trailer.  The girl told us scary stuff about spiders (what, I have no idea).  From that time forward, my sister and I were terrified of spiders.  A few years later, when I was around eight, our family was on vacation and walking down a hiking trail.  Suddenly, I was surrounded:  there must have been at least two daddy long legs on the path blocking my way.  I guess they eventually skittered away:  otherwise, I would still be standing there, paralyzed by fear.

            Let’s go back to the ceiling in my room.  Two whole nights I slumbered soundly despite the spider on the ceiling.  I didn’t want to try to kill him because I was pretty sure he would escape my attempts and land on my bed.  This morning, finally, he was gone:  I assumed he found a better spot to hang around.  After my coffee and computer time, I went to make my bed.  I started on the side directly below the spider’s spot, pulling up sheet, blanket, and summer quilt.  When I walked around the bed to do the same for the other side, I was startled:  there stood the daddy long legs on my hot pink sheets near my pillow!

            Thinking fast, I grabbed the South Whidbey Telephone Directory and smashed him.  He didn’t even leave a mess, just rolled over and crinkled up like dead spiders do.  One Kleenex would not offer sufficient protection, so I grabbed two to pick him up and throw him away in the wastebasket.

            I didn’t scream, I didn’t hyperventilate, and I didn’t even break out in the cold sweat of fear.  (Okay, I’m exaggerating:  the cold sweat break-out was very minor.)  My sister would be proud of me.  My son—well, when I tell him about this spider victory, he will probably remind me of the time we found a tarantula in the house.  But that is another story.