The funny thing about this blog is that it doesn’t document my burning hatred for winter because I started this one in June and we didn’t really have a winter, per se. It got cold, a few times. It snowed, like four times. I only had to shovel once, and only for about a half an hour to dig out my car from when Nick (bless his heart) plowed our driveway.. This winter just didn’t have it in her. It didn’t bring me down because it didn’t bring it’s one-two punch.
Thank Christ for small favors, amiright?
But now we are in that other particular time of year that I hate and have trouble getting used to before I can really embrace summer and all of the things I LOVE about it: It’s the bug season. It’s started early this year, and it’s making me put up quite a fight to keep my sanity.
First it was the ticks. We heard it was going to be a bad year. I pulled the first tick off of Elise in early April and have found six, count ’em SIX more so far! Luckily I was born in good old Salem, Connecticut, which borders all sorts of Lymes. Old Lyme, East Lyme, South Lyme, HADlyme and LYME. So I am very familiar with daily tick-checks and have thusfar avoided Lyme Disease for 29 years.
Then, god help me, the spiders.
I see them here and there. Lurking. They slink across the basement walls, and the big ones, I see them saunter through the grass all sure of themselves. Then two days ago I got in my car and left for work and I hadn’t gotten a quarter mile down the road when I saw a MONSTER of a spider skipping across my dashboard right fucking in front of me. You know those kinds of spiders that don’t so much walk on their nasty little too-many legs as they JUMP UNEXPECTEDLY EVERYWHERE? It was one of those. It was about the size of a quarter (which, to me, is collossal in size) with a thick black body and these yellow stripes on its back.
(OH DEAR GOD I JUST TRIED GOOGLING AN IMAGE TO SHARE WITH YOU AND THAT LASTED A WHOLE FIVE SECONDS UNTIL MY WHOLE BODY WAS TINGLING AND SHUDDERING)
I have this thing where I am unreasonably terrfied of spiders. They make my body REACT. See all the capital letters I am using here? THAT’S HOW YOU KNOW I’M FREAKING OUT.
I slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road. There were no cars behind me, thank god, because I didn’t bother moving over to the shoulder. I pounded my foot on the brake and sat there freaking out, looking in all directions to find something to kill the spider with. I couldn’t use my hand, obviously. I considered an old coffee cup but then realized that the bottom was recessed and that would just anger the spider. I picked up from the console the envelope containing my brand new car registration, planning to hand slam/squish with that – but the fucking spider was gone. Somewhere. IN MY FUCKING CAR.
That was two days ago, and last night the fear of the spider lurking somewhere in my car manifested itself into nightmares of unusually bad proportions. I dreamt there were two spiders in my house and neither of them were ordinary. One was menacing and black, stalking between Elise’s room and the living room, disappearing and reappearing as I searched it out to kill it, always avoiding me. And then then there was the gargantuan brown THING that built a web in the corner of our entryway, spinning it’s disgusting egg sac, growing bigger and bigger by the minute until finally it’s legs looked more like shiny tentacles that were dripping down toward the floor and able to grab me.
I didn’t sleep well last night, obviously. And now here I am, one in the morning, writing about spiders and having to stop to itch myself every five seconds because I can feel those imaginary little fuckers crawling all over me.
God, I hate bugs.