I hate spiders. For as long as I can remember I have had an intense dislike for and fear of those little beasties. I expect this goes back to when I was a very young child and  my mom would make me go to bed while her and dad would settle in on the couch and watch this sci-fi show that came on TV back then that was something like the Twilight Zone. It was in black and white, and the TV would cast eerie shadows on the wall while mom and dad watched, completely engrossed. So engrossed that they never noticed me sneaking downstairs and laying behind the couch, peering around the corner, watching along with them.
The one episode I really remember was about this mad scientist who pours a vial of some sort of potion he brewed down the kitchen sink, right on this unsuspecting spider that got swished down the drain along with the liquid. But, the potion turned the bug into Spiderzilla. And it was a really ticked off spider too, chasing that scientist around his apartment. I think he finally ate the guy, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember the ending, but I do remember that nasty spider, all covered with stringy greasy hair and rolling insane eyes. (If I ever got the chance to see this episode again, I’m not sure the special effects would have the same influence on me...)
And I knew from that moment on that, if it was big enough, a spider would definitely eat you. Now, there are some of you who are thinking that I have little to fear cause, in my particular case, that would have to be one ginormous spider, but rational thought plays no part in my fear.
I have grown a little more tolerant of spiders over the years, but I still can’t stand it when they sneak up on me - usually just as I am about to get into the shower. When Dallas, my son, was very little he was scared of spiders too. After all, there must be something powerful and dangerous about a bug that can elicit a shriek and a freaky hot-footed dance from his mom. Later, when he watched my brother, Clayton, kill a spider with a quick slap (can you say ewwwww?) he realized they were pretty much harmless. From that day forward he became my official Spider Killer, a pretty good title when he was four, but he’s not so impressed with the designation now. However, although I have been able to stifle my screaming and freaked out dancing, I still just can’t deal with spiders. When I find one looming in the bathroom or hiding in the hallway, I meekly make my way to Dallas’s room. I just have to look at him and he knows exactly what is wrong. I guess I have a special ‘I am under spider attack’ look, because he will heave a huge sigh then ask where the little beasty is then go and take care of business.
For a while he went through a period where he would do this capture and release thing with spiders. However, I am not that kind of female. I do not believe the life of a spider is a sacred thing. In fact, if you actually touch a spider on purpose, I think you need to be completely sanitized, from top to bottom. I think it was this latter belief that finally convinced Dallas it was just easier to kill them.
My dad says there is only one way to get rid of the fear of spiders. That is, he says, to actually pick one up on purpose and let it crawl all over you until you get over your terror.
Ya, right.
I thought I’d take the first step in trying this idea out by putting myself in the position of being close to a spider on purpose. I visited a pet store and made my way to the tarantula corner. Then I looked into the cage. The gigantic huge and enormous spider inside the cage glared at me then rushed me. It was like he knew me and we were mortal enemies. Maybe I had a few of his tinier cousins put to death or something. I screamed and left.
Frankly, instead of getting over the fear of spiders I’d just as soon get rid of all the spiders in the world. Think that’s silly, impossible and likely environmentally harmful? I don’t care.
Pass the Raid.