Charlotte is going down

I seem to be under attack by hostile, eight-legged militants. In the past 48 hours I have skooshed no fewer than nine not-so-little kamikaze arachnids, three of them shortly after their emergence from seemingly the same point of origin under my bed, and one which happened to be skulking right towards me on my bed not 30 seconds ago.

I fear spiders. I fear them more than anything else on the planet, so much so that my skin crawls at even the sight of one captured forever in a photograph. Forget watching an arachno-mentary on the Discovery Channel. I am shocked at my own courage to boast that I have sat through Arachnophobia not once, but at least five times through in its entirety.

I believe that sneak attacks in the shower (such as the one I experienced this morning) warrant immediant skooshing, as do invasions into my sleeping space. Some may argue that skooshing is cruel, but my fear is so great that I would not be able to rest with the notion of little legs scuttling across my sleeping body (something to which I have woken up before…quite unsettling, to say the least) running through my mind.

What worries me the most is the attitude of these evil little soldiers. First of all, I think that they have coordinated their assaults with the schedules of the humans in this household. Specifically, I have only been attacked when alone in the house. I think they can sense my fear, and know that it takes an incredibly exhausting boost of courage on my part to approach my assailants, drawing near enough to counter-attack. (I have been known to stand for a good half-hour in a staring contest with the enemy, trying to determine whether it is really worth risking my life to skoosh it. Half of the time it isn’t.)

Secondly, and perhaps more worrisome, is the behavior of the spiders themselves when confronted. Most of the time, when I can muster enough nerve to retaliate, my nemesis will attempt to flee to a dark corner, where it will bide its time until I let my guard down. These Trenton spiders, however, seem to have taken on the demeanor of their human counterparts from this city. They do not flee, but rather stand their grounds, raising their front legs and bearing their fangs, obviously ready to fight me to the death.

Thank goodness for large, heavy books.


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