If you have known me for more than, say, fifteen minutes, you understand that I don’t like spiders. In my book, they are about as creepy as a thing can be.
At the same time, I have taken
something of an uneasy comfort in knowing that our big ugly spiders don’t jump.
Granted, there are jumping
spiders. We have them here in
Montana. For some reason jumping spiders
have never given me the creeps. Jumping
spiders tend to be small, have short legs, and big button eyes. They don’t look quite as spidery to me. And their jumping somehow makes them even
less spidery.
I read somewhere that some
jumping spiders can leap two feet in distance.
That’s a grasshopper right there.
Anyhoo, a really ugly thing
happened yesterday. In the early evening,
I stepped into my laundry room to grab something. I took only one step before spotting, on the
floor near my feet, a really big, long-legged, hairy spider with enormous boxing
gloves (palps) held out for a fight. The
spider saw me at the same time and jumped.
Listen to what I am saying: “The
big creepy spider jumped up into the air.”
I don’t want to say I panicked…
Okay, I panicked.
I tore off my shirt, threw it
down over the spider, wadded up the spider, and then ran to the back door and flung
my shirt off the back deck.
I’ll retrieve my shirt again
sometime next year.
—Mitchell Hegman
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