I hated spiders for the longest time. They were my sworn enemies. You know the ones I’m talking about: the ones that are the size of a fifty cent piece, big hairy looking butts and legs so long they would engulf an entire hand. Something about all those legs and skittering movement. And did you know some of them are fast fuckers? I’ve seen some huge ones that would leave Kenyan Olympic runners in the dust. Those are the scariest ones. The one you hit with a heavy shoe, they fall off the wall and when you go to check to make sure they’re in a clump of death they’re gone. You could throw a Doc Marten at one of these suckers and they’d brush it off and begin plotting revenge against you. I had pretty good aim. I was the Katniss of killing spiders with a thrown shoe. Or a TV Guide. Or a cat.
But now it’s different. I’m getting older and less inclined to kill other living things. I found a spider in my room the other day and transplanted it to a potted plant because I was worried it wouldn’t lead a happy life hanging out on my wall. This morning sitting at my desk at work I found a good sized spider walking through my bangs. I must have walked through its house on the way into work which made me feel guilty. Instead of killing it, I spent three minutes trying to move it 10 feet to another potted plant but the idiotic thing kept jumping from the edge of the post card I was using. Maybe it was suicidal. Maybe I should play it Elton John’s Somebody Saved My Life Tonight. I finally got it into a co-worker’s potted plant and then looked into a mirror because I punched myself in the face and knocked my wig sideways when the spider startled me.
Then again, a couple weeks ago I killed a big spider that was on my mom. It was on her, disappeared and showed up a second later on my arm. It fell to the floor and I swear to God it was wearing roller skates because it took off so fast. I felt bad about killing him but it was either me or him. And when I was kinda trying to help him out of the house, shooing him with a magazine, I squished him. And then I tried to make myself feel better by trying to convince myself I sort of tried to save him.