The Evolution of Little Miss Muffet

I don't like spiders. I am sure you are all thinking, "Wow, she must really be running out of things to write about if she is going to state the obvious like that." I mean, there aren't that many women who LOVE spiders and want them living in their homes or in close proximity to their doorways. Some women probably handle it better than others, but...

This is, however, a huge step for me. I used to not only HATE spiders, but also be deathly afraid of them. As far as I was concerned, all spiders were either black widows or brown recluses. I remember one night when my husband and I were first married. He was working third shift at his job, and I was home alone with our oldest daughter, who was a baby. I was getting ready to fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV, when I happened to look up at the ceiling. There was a small, black spider up in the corner of the living room wall. That was it for me. I stayed up the ENTIRE night, following the spider around the house as it traveled, praying that it wouldn't detour into my daughter's bedroom. My husband came home at 7am the next morning to find his bleary-eyed wife sitting in the hallway with eyes trained on the spider. "Kill it." I said to him, as he walked into the apartment.

I would probably still be like that, except for a small glitch in my paranoia. My husband took a job that required him to travel about 25% of the time. And for some reason, the spiders just couldn't respect that and only visit when he was around. So, I finally had to face my fear, and learn how to kill a spider. The small ones don't even really bother me, anymore.

The other day, however, I went outside early in the morning to take something to my car. On my way in the house, I glanced up at the porch light. I saw a web, about 2 feet in diameter, with a spider inside who was about the size of a quarter. I was so proud of myself. I calmly walked into the house, shut the door--tightly--and locked it. (Because spiders can't open doors, if they are locked, right?) And I then called my children over to observe this huge arachnid work on his web through the storm door window.

So, then I was caught in Charlotte's Web vs. Arachnophobia thing. I kept imagining this spider saving the life of some poor barnyard animal. I also imagined smashing it, and having a million babies crawl out of it upon impact (which actually happened to my friend once, when she killed a spider). I decided to leave the spider. All day long, I even went in and out the front--keeping a close eye on him. My youngest daughter chose to use the side door.

The next morning, on my way out the door to a meeting, I noticed the spider. He had taken up residence in a new web (the other one had been demolished by wind). I realized how far I have come. How much I have matured. I survived an entire 24 hours with the spider-on-steroids right outside my front door. That revelation, however, didn't keep me from walking back into the house and poking my head into my husband's "office" when he works from home--our bedroom. "Honey?? I have a job for you..."

As I pulled out of the driveway, my husband put the spider out of his misery with his hiking boot. Maybe after another 13 years, I will be able to do that by myself... but I'm not holding my breath.