Spiderpocalypse. It’s totally a thing (I just made up).

I got in my car after work last night to discover a spider trying to make its home in my side mirror. “Perhaps,” I thought, “this explains why I removed a fully formed spider web from my car this morning.” So, instead of my typical few minutes where I have all the windows in the car down while the a/c kicks into gear, I spent a few minutes suffering in the stifling heat in order to avoid spiderpocalypse.*

A brief ride on the highway did not rid my car of the spider, nor did a couple more hours in the sun. In fact, this tenacious little** spider was working my nerves. I poured an entire bottle of water on the spider before it had the decency to land on the parking lot where I could proceed to smoosh it dead. In fact, it tried MORE THAN ONCE to return to the safety of my mirror but I was not having it.

Now, a nice normal non-bug-phobic*** person could have handled this better. A quick smoosh near the mirror would have rid me of the spider in seconds, but instead I had to go through a whole big thing because the spider was invading my space and was in a spot higher than I could smoosh with my shoe.

On my way home in my spider free (I hope – let’s pretend, at least) car, I started thinking about how “spider killer” is high on the list of traits I’m looking for in a man. In fact, it might be number 1 right now. And then I wondered how one might casually bring up this need to find someone willing to kill spiders (and not make fun of me while doing it) on a first date. These are the places my brain goes when I’m alone in my car with ice cream. Or is the spider thing even first date conversation? (although I would like to make sure to cut my losses early if someone couldn’t kill spiders)(truthfully, the spider thing is probably not a deal breaker, but there are bonus points for guys who can kill spiders and other bugs without laughing at my phobia)

Of course, unless the man of my dreams shows up next to me on the treadmill at the gym or in the cereal aisle at Target, I don’t know where I’m going to meet people. I may have to learn to kill my own spiders, even the ones on the ceiling (little bastards try to land on my head when I do that, though). Perhaps I need to post an ad somewhere: Now accepting applications for a cute, smart, and funny guy with the ability to kill spiders (and other bugs. Especially the big ones with crunchy exoskeletons). My goal is to never have to kill a giant spider again.

*One of my FB friends recently posted a picture of a wolf spider covered in spider babies on her page. It had infiltrated her kitchen. The picture alone freaked me out & now I keep picturing hordes of baby spiders coming out of my side mirror thing sometime soon. SPIDERPOCALYPSE.

**Not actually a little spider. It was no Acromantula, but it was easily an inch long without taking the legs into account. So many legs.

***I really wish I knew when exactly I went from the little bug collecting girl who would pick up a Daddy Long Legs by one of it’s legs and walk around with it to “get it away from me” bug phobic adult. I imagine it may have been sometime around 12 years old when I accidentally sat on a bee & had my first (and only) bee sting, but that should not have been a trauma inducing event.