Life in the Slow Lane

Life in the Slow Lane

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Why He Cannot Be Trusted

I found the most enormous spider in the tub the other day. It freaked me out, as I totally hate spiders and the air they breathe. That is a grandiose way of saying they scare the shit out of me. I thought about taking a photo but I decided the only thing worse than finding an enormous spider in the tub is finding one, running to get a camera and then finding it gone upon your return. I would not have been able to bathe in comfort after that. In fact even though I know I washed that little bastard down the drain I still am wary upon entering the shower.

I have a very chequered past with spiders. I grew up in a house that spawned brown hairy 8-legged beasties the size of cats. It was not uncommon to be sitting in the basement TV room and something catching your attention out of the corner of your eye. Something large and crawling towards you. My family got very used to me jumping up in the middle of some program to run shrieking from the room. My very dramatic reaction to spiders resulted in many family jokes at my expense.

One night I was walking up the stairs leading to the top floor bedrooms when it became necessary to throw myself up the remaining five steps due to a simply HUGE spider on the stairs. Most would simply walk past the spider by skipping that step when confronted with that situation. Not me. I was effectively trapped on that floor. Normally I would have called on a parent to save me from eminent peril but that night I was alone in the house. Fortunately I did have access to a bathroom but as time went on I became quite hungry and wanted a snack from the kitchen one floor below. I wracked my brains to how I could deal with my predicament. Do I climb out a window and then break into the basement? Do I jump over the spider by clearing a dozen steps in a super hero leap? What do I do? I suddenly got a brain wave. Bathroom cleaner. I would spray the spider with toilet foam killing it and rendering it harmless. My own chemical jihad.

Picture me standing on the top step with a can of Sani-foam, sweating profusely and giggling maniacally as I am apt to do under great stress. Picture me emptying a whole can of cleaner onto a single step. Then picture my parents coming home to find me and a 3-foot high mound of evil smelling foam barring the way to their room. Finally picture me grounded for a good long time. Once all the froth was shovelled off, the poor shrivelled up spider, greatly diminished in size since my last sighting, was no help to my cause.

Another time I found a spider on the same stairs in almost the exact circumstances except this time I was going down which meant I landed in a quivering pile of sweaty jelly on the middle floor. And this time my parents where home to spare me the ordeal of handling the situation myself. I ran to my father and told him that there was a HUGE spider on the stairs that he needed to get rid of. I must have seen something in his expression as I immediately regretted my decision wishing I had told my mom instead as she was much more sympathetic to my fears. My dad grabbed a handful of Kleenex and walked over the steps saying the whole time that I just had to get over my phobias and that spiders were wonderful creatures deserving praise as they killed off other undesirable bugs in the house. But as you all know, when one is almost hyperventilating with terror the only thing one hears is, “Blah blah blah spider, blah blah blah spider blah.” My father, my protector, my role model reached with his Kleenex, picked up the spider and then proceeded to walk towards me. With the spider. Yes, I said WITH THE FUCKING SPIDER!!! in his possession. I did what any self-respecting arachnophobe would do. I jumped onto the couch and crawled behind my mother screaming bloody murder, completely trampling her as she was trying to peacefully read. My mother swears I was emitting such a high-pitched sound she almost blacked out. And my father, my protector, the man who can do no wrong in a little girl’s eyes, stood over me and shook the Kleenex out over my head thereby releasing the spider into my aura causing my soul to melt. I then came close to blacking out myself. I am not kidding. Once my life stopped flashing before my eyes and I quit swallowing my tongue I realised that there was no spider. The Kleenex was empty. The evil man had left it on the stairs.

Obviously my father, my protector, the man who hangs the moon, is Satan. I paid him back for this with my teenage years.


greatwhitebear said...

LOL.. that is a GREAT story. My daughter is also deathly afraid of spiders, and while, to my credit, I haven't played any "spider jokes" on her (yet), when ever i am called on to kill one, I make sure it becomes a theatrical event!

Closet Metro said...

I make Dizzle kill her own spiders. That way her teenaged years will be even more fun for me.

Good luck tomorrow. May there be no spiders to trouble you.

Sharkey said...

That Dad Poo is EVIL! Doing that to his poor little girl.

I had to laugh at the beginning of your story--there was some sort of (non-spider) bug in my shower this morning, and I considered getting the camera too.

JessicaRabbit said...

Spiders are no laughing matter. And fathers who tease daughters, get poked in the eye.

My house is a spider free zone. They cross into the zone, they die, either by boys, cats, or swiffer splat mode.

I hate them, I hate them, I hate them and all their ten million eyes.

Katietoyboy said...

Hi Yoshi/Stacey,

Just finished reading your entire blog. Most inspiring. I wish you all the good luck in the world.

SPIDERS, the only thing worse than finding one is losing one!! When toyboy was little, he put one in his sister's BED. I told him that if a similar thought ever even crossed his mind now, he would experience instantaneous disqualification from this PLANET!

My brother spent some time in Vancouver and loved it. I have a fab framed photo that he took of the balancing stones on the beach.

Take care


abcd said...

Stacey-Hope today is a good day for you sans spiders. I will loan
out my 14 year old daughter. She will kill any and all bugs.

She is a good cook, but very messy!

The moral of the story: no bugs for you, home cooked meals, and a messy house. Call if interested!


Candace said...

*ugh* spiders.

The Boy won't let me kill them, but he can't stand the thought of them in the house. So what does a mother do? I actually have to CAPTURE the spiders and then release them outside.

Or, I just don't tell him I saw one and I squish it with my shoe.

kalki said...

Oh that just is not right!! Devil dad indeed! I am the same way - definitely would have blacked out.

Great stories, great post!

Squirl said...

Ichabod believes in leaving spiders alone as they kill other bugs. I don't mind them outside, but inside is a bit much. We had a wolf spider in the bathroom by the shower for a week or so one time. The problem with them is that if you move toward them they move toward you. You can't scare them. He finally left or died. I don't know which and I don't care.

I can see why you can't stand to have them around. Ugh!

Von Krankipantzen said...

greatwhitebear-thanks. I am glad you enjoyed it. Please don't torment your daughter with spiders. She may blog about it later.

closet m-I am not sure if that is empowering or just plain mean. i guess you will find out for sure as she gets older. Mwahahaha!

sharkey-I wish I was little but this happened as a teenager. I should have been braver. I think it is strange bug season. Check out the doozie Closet Metro found. He posted a pic on his blog.

Jessicarabbit-we are on the same page, sista!

katietoyboy-WOW! Thanks for your tenacity reading this whole thing. I am honoured. I am glad you set the spider record straight with toyboy. That is just not on. And guess what, I live only one block away from the beach of the balanced stones. I am one lucky girl.

shoshie-that sounds very tempting. I don't cook and am otherwise neat. But luckily for me there are very few bugs around my place. This spider was an anomoly. I will keep you posted!

misfit-that is a tough one. I admit that while hating spiders I feel terrible about killing them. But can bear to touch any. I always apologise to the universe if I squish one. Your son sounds like he has a gentle heart.

kakli-I am thankful I am not alone in my hysteria. My mom still laughs over the noises I made during that episode. SubSONIC!

squirl-your Ichabod sounds just like my dad. I can't handle a big spider in the bath but I have left some tiny daddy long legs unmolested in my shower. Still felt uneasy though.

spoonleg said...

bwahahaha! My dad once did the same exact thing, except with a roach.

Von Krankipantzen said...

spoonleg=your father=EVIL!

east village idiot said...

I don't know why I'm not afraid of spiders. I guess I'm too busy being afraid of snakes.

Kitchen_Kitten said...

My fear of spiders seriously rivals yours. I can't even look at them on TV. Yes I scream. I realize they are a friend of mankind, but I say stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours.

I refuse to tell my friends about this because I KNOW they will use it to their amusement.

I have to admit I did laugh at what your dad did. But it's one of those things that I understand your fear, but it's funny because it didn't happen to me. If it did I think I would still be in therapy.

Love love love your blog.

john boy said...

Oh, poor little girl. LOL Didn't you read Charlotte's Web?

This seems to be a week for posting childhood memories. Mine was about vomiting though. Not sure if that is worse than spiders. For you I'd say NO.

Sorry to bring up vomiting with your next treatment pending. Hope all goes well.

eclectic said...

I can just see your little self shrieking away from devil dad and his evil arachnoid... that was a very funny story! Spiders aren't my panic button, but my daughter just can't take them so I play Terminator for her.

Ern said...

Great story!

I got very good at trapping the spiders under a glass when I was home alone. Then they could be safely ignored until someone came to my rescue. Or, you can slide a folder under it and carry the whole thing outside where it can be stomped on in peace without staining the carpet.