Heebeegeebees

YUCK! Spiders give me the heebeegeebees. Creepy little buggers.

I live in the wrong place to be scared (oh yes, I'm scared) of spiders. The country, the last time I checked, is the homeland to daddy long legs, jumping spiders, wolf spiders, and even the brown recluse.

I am thankful every day that I'm not a native of the jungle...spiders grow giant-sized there, and they make webs the size of my bathroom. Those are not the kinds of spiders I'm ruminating on today.

No, the spiders I have come to loathe are the WOLF spiders. Look at these intimidating arachnids:



They have decided that rather than living in my 1,200-foot carport (what happens when your three-car garage has no doors!), or in the four acres of woods surrounding our house, they prefer the warmth and dryness of our little brick house. Ick.

I am grateful that it's rare to see them upstairs, where our bedrooms, living room and kitchen are situated. Instead, they wait to surprise me in our walk-out basement.

I have a pseudo-laundry chute from my linen closet upstairs that deposits our mountains of laundry on our basement floor, just a few feet from our antiquated washing machine. And since I usually can't get to the laundry until Friday morning, it gathers there and pools about the floor, growing taller every day.

The spiders LOVE McCallen Laundry Mountain. It is rare for a week to pass that I don't see at least one of those leggy, brown beasts clinging to a sweater or bib as I load up the washing machine.

I never react well. I scream, I recoil, I shout and ALWAYS throw whatever article of clothing I have in my hand. And then I look around wildly at something to bring the spider its death sentence.

I would love to be able to say that I gather a box, scoop up the spider and shoo it outside, but I don't. I have to kill them... they just cannot live in my vicinity or I will not sleep. I feel the same way about stinging insects. They've got to go.

And this type of spider is aggressive! They sometimes charge at me, and once one kind of "boxed" at me. You could almost hear it saying "put 'em up, put 'em up." Bye-bye, spider.

My jug of bleach has been my deadly weapon of choice. If it doesn't kill those spiders right away, it traps them until David can come to my rescue.

BLECH. If I never see another wolf spider again, I'll be a happy, happy woman.

Seriously, doesn't just talking about them give you the heebeegeebees too?