I need to get something off my chest. It’s just a little bit of crazy that I carry around with me.
I know this is a food blog. I write about food that I make or eat, I photograph said food, and I share the recipes. I’ve deviated from that formula very little over the last ten months. I have no intentions of starting to deviate regularly now.
However, as I sit here editing my photos from two recipes that I successfully made today, I am also recuperating from a run in with a spider.
Now, obviously, I haven’t shared my complete loathing and utter terror of spiders here before. I mean, as I said, this is a food blog. But if you’re going to continue sharing my kitchen exploits with me, then I think this is a vital detail that I really ought to share with you.
So, there you have it…I hate, loathe, despise, and abominate spiders (name that quote).
Since moving to the Virgin Islands, that loathing has increased a hundredfold.
The spiders here not only apparently thrive in the heat and humidity, but they also seem to experiment in cross breeding and genetic modification.
It’s important to know that in my world, if a spider makes it’s presence known, there can be only one solution: death. Death to all arachnids, no matter the shape or size.
I whined on Facebook once recently about my horror at having had a very large (no, really…not large just because I hate spiders…it was big) monster spider fall from the laundry I was washing and onto my foot, where it promptly shot off like a bat out of hell, most likely because it sensed that it’s death was nigh. Many of my friends had sympathy for me. After all, they’ve known me for years…they know how traumatic this was for me. My dear aunt, however, had advice instead. She proceeded to break down to me which spiders were safe to ignore and which should be killed on sight.
IGNORE?! Is she serious?! There is not a spider on this planet…or any other for that matter…that I could possibly ignore! You see, when I encounter a spider, there are two scenarios that play out in my head. Neither is rational, yet neither can be ignored.
Scenario A: A spider appears.
I see it and begin to strategize for the best plan of attack (this usually involves someone else doing the dirty work). The spider sees this and flees, escaping me, but never forgetting.
Later, while I sleep (remember, this is what plays out in my irrational, arachnophobic brain), the survivor attacks me in unseen and unfelt ways, but they are mortifying nonetheless.
Scenario B: A spider appears.
I see it and begin to strategize for the best plan of attack. The spider sees this and attempts to flee. However, my pitiful squeels and flip flop flinging prevail and I smite his ruin upon the tile floor…or wall…or countertop…you get the point.
Unfortunately, his mate and all 8, 372 of their offspring bare witness to Mr. Spider’s untimely demise. The survivors attack me in unseen and unfelt ways, but they are mortifying nonetheless.
Either way, at least according to my crazy, there really is no escape from the torment of spiders.
Obviously, I need help.