Somehow a spider got on my head.
Yeah, I thought I’d lead with that sentence just to let you know where this all is going.
I was working on my tent trailer this weekend, ripping down old curtains and sewing new ones when I decided to sit down and admire my handiwork.
All of a sudden I felt this tickle on my throat, like a bug was there or something.
I didn’t freak out, but I immediately reached up, grabbed the “bug” and threw it against the door of my tent trailer.
It bounced and landed on the steps out of my view.
“Please don’t let it be a spider…” I chanted mentally as I worked up the courage to check out what had been on me.
I leaned forward and saw this:
A big, fat, cream colored spider.
I nearly had a heart attack.
I wanted to burn the tent trailer to the ground to get rid of it.
My dad is the one who I attribute my arachnophobia to. He refused to kill the spiders in my room when I was young. Instead he’d trap them in a little baggie and shake the baggie in front of my face while I tried to hide from it.
Yeah, nice going Dad.
Anyhow, this spider I let run off. It took me 15 minutes to recover from the fact that this spider had probably been hitching a ride in my hair for some portion of the afternoon.
I’m still working on the tent trailer, but we came across a black widow on the outside of the trailer yesterday so I’m feeling a little skittish.
Try picturing me sleeping in this thing and not jumping at every little tickle and sensation I feel in my body.