Tuesday, August 2, 2011

You Never Know When it Might Be Your Time

My husband thinks I get a little hysterical sometimes. I think it is justified in certain situations. You read on and tell me who you agree with.

This morning was pretty low key. We got up early and I cut Tyler's hair. He wanted me to do it last night, but after chasing our kids around the library and becoming very hot and sweaty, we opted for showers instead. (I should mention that we were chasing them around a courtyard playing a game of tag, not through the aisles of books—although I have done that before as well.) Hair cut, I cleaned up all the remnant hair on the floor. After sweeping, I looked down and saw a chunk of hair I had missed. Hmm, how did I miss that? I thought. Examining the hair closer, it was not hair at all, but a large-ish spider. Eww. I kept my cool, and grabbed a cup and gently placed it over the spider planning on having Tyler deal with it later. I have different methods of dealing with spiders. I will take them outside sometimes, and I will squish them if I have to. (Meaning they have gotten too close to my children or they look really ugly.) But my favorite method by far, is the one where I let someone else deal with my problem, i.e. Tyler.

I had scripture study with the children while Tyler showered. Tyler came down and breakfast started. I sat and took out multiple braids. It took over an hour to put them in.


And actually quite a while to take them out. And she kept finding more that we had missed. But what do you expect with 32 braids. Her hair looked so fun afterwards. It was very Jane and the Dragon.


I guess she would be more June and the Dragon. :)


Anyway, so I am unbraiding hair. Then I ask Tyler if I am good to go upstairs and shower since I didn't wash my hair the night before. "Yep" he says, and I take off towards the stairs. Just about as I reach them, he says, "What's on your back?"

I don't know? I take two steps to look in the mirror. I tilt my head over my shoulder and there is the large-ish spider crawling UP. MY. BACK. I may have lost my composure, but as I told the children later, it had almost reached my skin/hair and since it was on my back, I had no control over getting to it. So I basically screamed like a little girl for Tyler to get it off me. I still shudder thinking about it.

Some may wonder how the spider got out from under the cup. I myself was wondering this. When Tyler came back down, he moved the dining table back to its original position since we move it to cut hair. He must have jostled the cup without realizing it, releasing the spider. And then I had stood still long enough in one spot (unbraiding) for the spider to crawl up my body. See, why this gives me the heeby-jeebies? I think it was after revenge. I guess we will never know, since if a spider touches my body, it automatically earns the death sentence. (Sorry dad, that's just the way it has to be.)

Then Tyler was nice enough to tease me about it until he left for work. You know, like playing 'I Will Survive' on YouTube and then leaving a picture of a spider on my computer screen so I would jump later when I sat down. Mean, I tell you. He claims to want to spend eternity with me, but is deliberately cutting down my mortal existence.

I hope your morning was more spider-free than mine. And I recommend that if you put a spider under a cup, it is a heavy glass one, or you weight it with a brick.

6 comments:

Emma Jo said...

I have no sense of humor when it comes to spiders or cold water. None. 'shudder'

Aubry Macbean said...

EWW. Ewww. EWW. EWWW. EWWWWWW. Just thinking about it gives me the shivers.

Carrie Lu said...

Crazy! That spider must have been seeking revenge. Thank goodness Tyler saw it. Reminds me of my encounters with earwigs. I'm glad you're okay.

Desmama said...

Nastiness. I would've screamed too.

meganmushrat said...

I can't believe that I have given birth to such a wuss. So there was a spider on your back. It wasn't a tarantula or a black widow. And I don't think it was out for revenge. Although I do have to admit that if a spider surprises me, I do jump. But then I act rationally. How can Dad and I (who are very tolerant of spiders) have three kids who are so arachnophobic? I mean, I could understand your hysteria if it had been an ant.

¡Vieve! said...

Gross gross gross gross gross gross I would have flipped my lid.