Spiders, My Butt, and Other Truly Scary Things

I have this thing with spiders. I hate them. I am afraid of them. And I'm pretty sure this fear has come back to bite me in the ass. Literally.

Yesterday during my glorious mental health day, I decided to inspect the bug bite on my rear that has been making me crazy. This was neither easy or pleasant (few things are more horrifying than your own derriere in a mirror) but since this bite had been aggravating me for a couple of days and I was a little worried that something weird was going on back there, I had to take a look. I was worried that this wasn't just a mosquito bite, and I think I'm right on that: in the center of this bite, I think I see two little, red pin-pricks. I think those might be fang marks. And I think I know how it happened.

Sunday was too gorgeous to stay inside, so I played out with Ainsley in the very high grass before Jason came out to cut it. While we were playing, I looked down and saw a smallish spider crawling up my pants. I danced a little jig to try to shake it off, trying not to scream and look petrified in front of Ains. But he was a fast little booger and I never did actually see him come off my pants. I think my dance of terror may have shaken him inside my capri pants and thus, the bite. I shudder to think about it.

Believe it or not, my arachnophobia has gotten better. My mom loves to tell people how when I was a high-school senior she was awakened by blood-curdling screams coming from the bathroom one morning; she just knew someone had broken in and was stabbing me to death in the shower. As she sprinted in to my rescue, she noticed I was alone in the shower save for a small yellow house spider dangling from a single strand of web in front of me. I had turned around in the shower and come face to face with said spider, and was so paralyzed with fear that I couldn't get away from it; I just started screaming. She had to kill it for me. I am not proud of this.

For most of my marriage Jason has taken up the title "Spider Killer"; he gets summoned at all hours to kill 8-legged creatures that startle me in the bathroom or bedroom. But once I became a mom, that maternal protectiveness kicked in and I can kill most spiders in the house without assistance. I may still jump and squeal if one takes me by surprise as I enter a room, or if a really furry one gets in my path, but I am making progress. I just don't like the thought of one crawling up my britches.

And speaking of horrors...how about Lost last night? The one scene in the creepy cabin with "Jacob?" EEEK! When the voice said, "Help me," I got chills. Kudos to Lost for the scariest scene I've seen on network TV since The X-Files. 'Cause even though I don't like being spooked by spiders, I loves me a good scary movie or show every now and then...