Arachnophobia

The other night began like every other night before it. I was in bed, reading before I crashed for the night. As I'm laying there, reading "Our Stolen Future" (nothing like some light bedtime reading, eh?), something comes skittering across my chest at approximately 1,000 miles per hour. Being the calm, reasonable girl that I am, I flung my book up into the air (picture it ever so slowly going end over end until it lands on the floor-I flung it right good), jumped out of bed, squealed & flailed my arms wildly. I might have hopped up & down a couple times for good measure as well. While squealing. And flailing. Because I'm all about the dignity here.

Once I calmed down, glanced around & realized that no one saw my shame, so therefore it could be saved for blogging, I started looking around to locate the culprit. On the side of the bed, on my lovely 400 thread count sateen pristine white sheet, was a tiny, green spider. FUCKER. In my BED. My SANCTUARY. Where I spend all the time playing Alpha Centauri & reading Sci-fi novels. HOW DARE HE? After a moment's pause, I pounced on my tissue box and crushed the life out of the little beasty, feeling rather guilty about it. I really should have gotten a cup and a sheet of paper & trapped him so I could release him into his natural habitat (everyone does this, right? trap the bug for safe release? no? hmmm?).

That's when I realized that my murder was highly justified as it was retaliation for the FIFTY spider bites festooned across my pale skin. Seriously, they're EVERYWHERE, because I was clearly sleeping with the enemy for a few nights. Not to share too much info, but I only sleep in my underpants, which means there were plenty of places to bite me. Including, but not limited to: the top of my right foot; all up & down my arms & legs; my cleavage, my back, my face, and my personal favorite-between two of my TOES. Because nothing makes your day more than an itch that's impossible to scratch.

So moral of the story is that I'm not sure if I only won the battle or the way. For spider bitage does not make for hot cleavage, and I have some dates forthcoming. Drat. Also, hush about the entomology classes & the squealing like a little girl. Spiders aren't really insects, after all.