It’s one of those moments you don’t see coming, like when you notice something has fallen from the back of a truck and then there it is right in front of your car. It could be small, like a five-pound sack of potatoes or someone’s blue hat. Your mind snaps back from wherever it had wandered and grabs your arm to turn the wheel. You swerve to avoid the obstacle, look around, replay the whole thing in your head, and then try to continue on your journey as if nothing had happened. But you’ve changed direction and can’t find your way back to the path you were taking. The incident, mere seconds in duration, has seized you and won’t let you go.
I’m carrying a bag of kitchen scraps outside to put into the compost bin. Then I intend to sit down at my computer and do some work. I hold the small paper bag in my right hand and open the door with my left. It’s still dark, but as my head breaks through the plane separating inside from out, I see something hanging near my face, between my eyes. A spider, I guess. I blow hard and it disappears. There’s no time to be dealing with little bugs, I think. Earlier in my life I would have jumped back in fear, flustered by this tiny creature. Anything with more than four legs (or fewer than one) scared the daylights out of me. I drop the bag into the bin, focused now on getting to work and, of course, the oddness of the word daylights. Where did it come from? I’d have to check. In order for something to scare the daylights out of me, it would have to be my natural state to have daylights in me. Do I? Where?
The questions continue, one causing the next, as I walk into the bathroom to wash my hands. Can other people see my daylights? Do I have a nightlight? Maybe that’s what’s been keeping me awake all these years. Standing at the sink I turn on the water and begin to rinse my hands when I glance up and see a black spider, about a half-inch in diameter, crawling straight up the front of my shirt. I let out a short scream, the kind you make when you’re stirring something hot on the stove and you burn your arm. In the same moment I swat my right hand across my chest toward the sink, jump back a step, look down and then up into the mirror. No spider, just splotches of wet shirt where my hand had landed. I look into the sink. No spider there either. He must have ended up inside my shirt! The thought springs full-blown into my mind, in italics, like a line from one of those Reader’s Digest stories. I want to live!
I turn and scan the bathroom floor, sure he must be lying somewhere, stunned and maybe even mortally wounded. No spider. I move the laundry basket. He isn’t on top of the clothes in the basket, nor is he behind or under it. I pull my shirt over my head while turning it inside out, shaking it furiously. Nothing. I grab the two ends of the shirt, pull it taut, and use it to rub up and down the middle of my back. I turn as far as I can to examine myself in the mirror. Calm for a split second, I notice my back, this part of my body that has been with me since birth but that I almost never see. (Even in one of those hotel bathrooms with mirrors on opposite walls, you can’t see your own back because it’s impossible to get yourself out of the way.) I appear to be spider free. I’m pretty sure about this, even though just thinking the spider might be there causes me to feel it. And I reach back again to swipe away the spider,
or at least the one that some part of my brain feels, even as another part knows it isn’t there.
More Reader’s Digest melodrama: It’s in my hair! I shake and scratch through my entire scalp with both hands, looking down so I’d see the spider fall. Still nothing. It’s gone, like some weird little magic trick. “It has to be somewhere,” I think. This is the kind of brilliant insight I’m capable of, especially when my mind is focused. “The spider still exists, probably right around the bathroom sink.” But I never find it.
I go over to my desk, prepared to work. Every few minutes I reach high with my right hand, then plunge it straight down the middle of my back to scratch at the tiny itch the imaginary spider keeps making with its feet. The rest of the time I sit and try to remember what it was I had been planning to do before I took out the garbage. But I’ve changed direction and can’t seem to find my way to the path I’d been taking. My mind is wandering again. Out of the corner of my eye I see a dark spot on the floor. When I slowly lean over to examine it, I discover that it’s just a piece of black yarn. I blow hard and it disappears. I have come a long way, I think. There was a time when a piece of black yarn would have scared the daylights out of me.
heidit
November 5, 2010
Wow. I thought I was the only one who reacted like that to spiders. In fact, if it makes you feel better, I have an entirely irrational, mind-numbingly annoying fear of spiders. It’s like I can’t function if they’re near me. I am constantly taunted for this. The thing is that I KNOW it’s irrational. I KNOW I’m bigger than the spider, but there’s something about them.
A year ago or so, at night, my cat was pawing at a towel that had fallen on the floor. I picked it up and was startled to see the world’s largest spider underneath it. All I could do was shriek, gasp for air and back up as far away as I could while not losing sight of it so someone could come rescue me. My friends said that I backed up into a wall and kept moving as though I was trying to push the wall further away from the spider. If it had been physically possible to move the wall with my fear, I would have.
What makes me annoying to people is that I am terrified of spiders, yet I insist they not be killed. And, like you, when I think of spiders, I instantly imagine them crawling on me. And now my neck feels tingly. Like there’s a spider there.
I’m so glad to hear I’m not the only one who goes through episodes of spider fear. Like you, I don’t trust things with more than four legs or fewer than one, unless those with fewer than one live in the water.
I don’t want to say I laughed at your fear, but this article provided some fantastic humour. So thank you for that.
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bronxboy55
November 5, 2010
I don’t kill them either. I don’t kill anything except mosquitoes. Usually, when I see a spider in the house I just leave it alone. But I don’t want them on me. (You understand.) If it’s big and I want to get rid of it, I get a cup or a sheet of paper and take it outside.
Thanks for the nice comment, Heidi.
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Betty Londergan
November 5, 2010
Your spider is probably sitting right on top of my cell phone, which also mysteriously disappeared on Tuesday and VANISHED into thin air. Which has pissed the daylights out of me … for sure!
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bronxboy55
November 5, 2010
I know how you can find your phone. All you have to do is buy a new one, and the old phone will magically reappear by the next day.
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dearrosie
November 5, 2010
Beautiful descriptions, and build up. I think everyone who reads this can’t help but look under their own shirts in case there’s a spider lurking there.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2010
Thanks, Rosie. Still no sign of him. Maybe I swatted him into the sink and down the drain, all in one swoop. Still, I’d better check my shirt again.
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cooperstownersincanada
November 5, 2010
Another excellent piece! I’ve had similar experiences with spiders. I once had a spider on the ceiling above my bed. I came up with the profound idea to try to knock it into a tupperware dish and take it outside and release it. But of course, when I knocked it off the ceiling it landed on my bed. I then proceeded to rip my bed apart to find it. I didn’t find it and slept with one eye open all night.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2010
That reminds me of these people who have boa constrictors as pets. I don’t think I’d ever sleep.
I also wonder how many mysterious car accidents are caused by the driver feeling (or imagining) something crawling on them. Maybe we should practice not flipping out when it really happens.
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shoreacres
November 5, 2010
Do you know what’s truly terrifying? The first thing that came into my mind when you mentioned “daylights” and “nightlights” was “heartlight”, which meant Neil Diamond, which meant ET, which meant a good half hour on YouTube, where I finally scratched that itch called “Song Sung Blue”. Sigh.
But isn’t that just the way? Think of what might be lurking in our psyches just waiting to dangle down in front of us: leisure suits. That green bean casserole with canned onion rings. Ring around the collar. Ahhhhhh……
Given a choice between Neil Diamond and your spider, I might go for the spider.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2010
Maybe if I had used “scared the living daylights out of me,” I could have spared you the Neil Diamond excursion. Sorry. On the bright side, it could’ve been worse. (Barry Manilow? I Write the Songs?)
Yes, my fear of dementia has nothing to do with distorted flashbacks of my own childhood. It’s the accurate memories of Mister Rogers and Spaghetti-Os and used hypodermic needles washing up on the beach.
Canned onion rings? I never heard of them, but now there’s that, too. I guess we’re even.
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Amiable Amiable
November 7, 2010
You know how I feel about spiders! It took me 24 hours to view this post after reading the title. Plagued by insomnia this evening (or morning, as now it’s 2am), I was just getting sleepy. Now I’m itchy and afraid to turn off the light.
Recently, I was about to climb in bed one night and saw a spider on my pillow. As I reached for the pillow to violently shake it and let the spider loose on the floor (at which point I would have stomped on it – no spider mercy from me!), the darn thing ran INSIDE the pillow case. I let out the scream I’d been stifling and yelled for my son to come save me. I didn’t watch as he got rid of the thing, but I heard the burial at sea (you know what I mean) and was assured that it was gone.
All the same, I slept in the guest room and didn’t touch that spider-infected pillow for weeks. If the daylights were scared out of me, wouldn’t I have fallen asleep immediately with the lights out in the guest room? If yes, it didn’t work. I was up all night scratching and tossing and turning.
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bronxboy55
November 7, 2010
The warning at the top of this post was specifically for you. At the same time it was also meant to acknowledge that most people who tolerate spiders are willing to let them live under the dryer or behind the furnace, but don’t want them on their clothing (or inside their pillowcases). Some distance is necessary for the relationship to survive.
I promise I won’t write about spiders anymore. I hope you sleep better tonight.
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Amiable Amiable
November 10, 2010
Well, I certainly appreciate the consideration with the title and would most certainly give you the same warning about any future posts about consuming live octopi. I refuse to believe, however, that any spiders are living under my dryer or behind my furnace. This would necessitate moving to a new spider-free home.
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bronxboy55
November 11, 2010
I had almost forgotten about the octopus thing. Thanks a lot. But now I’m thinking about a couple of documentaries I’ve seen over the past year that showed how skilled the octopus is at hiding. They even have camouflage, and can not only change color, but can alter their skin’s texture to resemble whatever they’re next to. Maybe spiders can do the same thing. Maybe that pillow in the guest room wasn’t a pillow at all!
Okay, I’ll stop if you will.
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Amiable Amiable
November 11, 2010
Hey, that was mean about the pillow! Kidding! Okay, no more comments about things with more than four legs. Except, you reminded me, for some reason, of pasta made from squid ink. Ever tried it? Supposedly, it adds to the taste. I have tried and don’t recall that, but do remember it looked pretty … pretty black.
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bronxboy55
November 11, 2010
This is your idea of a truce? Pasta and squid ink? There are only two foods I actually eat. (Well, there were.) And I’m not telling you the other one.
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Amiable Amiable
November 11, 2010
Not fair! This is like a riddle. I’ll try to solve it until my head hurts. My head hurts. You are a vegetarian, but you don’t like vegetables. That “leaves” fruit and pasta. Some call squid the fruit of the sea. Seems like squid ink & pasta might be a good combo for you.
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bronxboy55
November 12, 2010
I’ll probably spend the rest of the day looking for a setting that automatically blocks any comment or post containing the words “octopus” or “squid ink.”
Pizza.
Please. It’s all I have left. If you have a story about revolting pizza toppings, don’t tell me.
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Amiable Amiable
November 13, 2010
For my own reasons, dissing pizza would be sacrilege. You will be spared, for your sake and mine.
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bronxboy55
November 13, 2010
I knew we could find some common ground if we just kept trying.
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Kissie
November 7, 2010
Wow, maybe I don’t think twice about spiders because I don’t have any experience with them.
My oldest daughter was attacked (that’s the word she uses) by several of them when she was in her sophomore year in college so you can imagine her dread. Supposedly they were in her dorm which meant, of course, she had to get an apartment off campus.
I digress, my son is terrified of spiders but I have no idea why. I plan to relocate to Denver from Atlanta within the next year and my son has learned that they have invasions of tarantulas every 10 years — I think that’s what he said. Even that news has not discouraged my desire to move there.
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bronxboy55
November 7, 2010
I don’t know many people who wouldn’t be discouraged by an invasion of tarantulas. Kissie, you’ve just re-defined courage for me.
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Earth Ocean Sky Redux
November 7, 2010
Why have you not written a book – or have you and I just don’t know? You write ever so well!
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2010
I’ve published a few books. Check here:
http://www.mostlybrightideas.com
Thanks for asking, and for the kind words.
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arborfamiliae
November 8, 2010
Great writing as usual. I like the “changed direction” idea. I find myself changing direction often. I used to try to fight it, but I’ve actually found that going with the flow of the changing directions of a day (and oh so many things can cause a change in direction!) takes me to some good places–sometimes to places I need to be.
My two freakiest spider stories were close calls. The first involved taking out the trash (a common place to run into spiders, it seems). We had a huge spider that liked to hang out above our trash cans. I went out in the dark one night to put trash in the bin and stuck my hand right in his web. I saw him scurry away in the shadows and spent the rest of the night with occasional shivers going down my back. The second was at my parents’ house. A spider had draped his web over the opening of my parents garage door. When we opened the door he was hanging there, but I didn’t see him until I came within an inch or two of walking right into the huge web. And the spider was hanging right at nose-height to me. I still have nightmares.
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2010
One of the things about spiders that always puzzles me is how they start a web that stretches between two vertical objects, such as two trees. The spider has to start on one tree. How does it get over to the other one to get that first strand set up? Does it walk down the first tree, across the ground, and then up the other tree? Or does it wait for a breeze and fly directly over to the other side? This may not seem that important, but I’d like it to be a simple explanation. The smarter the spider is, the more nervous I feel.
Thanks for the comment, Kevin, and the stories. I guess we all have them.
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Mitchell Allen
November 9, 2010
Capturing the whole range of psychic frailty in one post is an accomplishment. Doing it in one paragraph is tantamount to literary genius:
You made me live that experience!
Cheers,
Mitch
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bronxboy55
November 9, 2010
I should probably be apologizing, but I’m too busy basking in that phrase: “literary genius.” Thanks, Mitch. Feel free to come around and exaggerate anytime!
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Jac
November 10, 2010
“(Even in one of those hotel bathrooms with mirrors on opposite walls, you can’t see your own back because it’s impossible to get yourself out of the way.)”
I guess I am not the only one who tries to do that. I turn and I turn, all the while thinking that I look like a dog chasing its tail.
Man, life is too funny.
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bronxboy55
November 10, 2010
It’s too bad we’re at our most entertaining when no one else is looking. Or maybe that’s a good thing. I can’t decide.
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Val Erde
November 14, 2010
Apart from very large ones or very dark bony-looking ones (you know the kind that look like they’ve got bionic metal legs, all the better to run at you with, pardon the wonky grammar) I tend these days to be more scared of dead spiders than live ones. So your ‘may contain spider parts’ bit of your title had me avoiding this for a few days! I don’t quite know what it is but spider parts, particularly stray legs and bits of body or, even worse, bits of stray body attached to stray legs, really freak me out.
I had a bad experience a year or two ago with a couple of largish spiders in the bathroom. Or to be more accurate, they had a bad experience with me. I tried to get them under a cup while they were on the turned-over underside of a bath mat that had a rubber base and one of them lost some… er… body parts. It was a very stunned-looking five legged spider that I evicted from the bathroom that night…
😦
The spider that landed on you would have just dropped straight down to the floor and run off to the nearest corner to hide (often under a mat or bit of carpet), your sudden movement would have done it even before hand would have met spider. Also they are actually quite sensitive to certain audio ranges. It’s possible to make a spider jump, in alarm, from a wall by aiming a quite deep, bass ‘boo’ at them.
Like you, I used to be terrified of them but the fear’s eased over the years. I’ve been working on it more too, and also on a fear of ‘daddy long legs’ as we call them here (Crane flies). I imagine both spiders and crane flies as wearing long stripy leggings. It makes me laugh! (Crane flies are now clumsy and badly dressed ballet dancers, in my mind).
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bronxboy55
November 14, 2010
We have crane flies, too. They appeared a few years ago in swarms. As I mowed the lawn, hundreds of them would fly up out of the grass. They’re pretty scary looking, but harmless — and they eat mosquitoes, which is a wonderful trait. But you’re right: they seem clumsy and not too bright.
I’m going to try to avoid the subject of spiders from now on, including spider parts. But I’m glad you gave in and read the post anyway.
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Val Erde
November 14, 2010
This might be of interest:
http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/living-daylights.html
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bronxboy55
November 14, 2010
That helped. Thanks!
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thesailorswoman.wordpress.com
May 16, 2014
This sent shivers down my spine (or maybe it’s a tap dancing spider making me feel that way). I should go down to the basement (where the spiders live) to switch a load of laundry, but thanks to you, I’m afraid to! Can I blame you when my family asks why there are no clean socks?
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bronxboy55
May 16, 2014
It’s always strange to read one of these old posts. How did you end up here? And, yes, feel free to blame me about the socks — although you’ll have to go back down there sooner or later.
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