I’m no Spider-Man

A man wearing a Spider-man mask with his hand over his mouth.

There are several roles you have to assume as a proper grown up. Some of them come naturally and others not so much.

Focussing on the latter – well, foibles are much more interesting to read about than achievements – we’ve reached a particular time of year that I dread. Spider season. And it’s fair to say that I’m no Spider-Man.

I’ve always been terrified of the way they move. I know it’s irrational and I know they’re more afraid of me than I am of them.

But we’ve all got strange little fears and spiders are one of mine. Unfortunately, we get rather a lot of them in our house and they’re not small either.

In addition, their timing seems horribly calculated. They always scuttle across the living room floor just as we finally relax for the evening. Even writing about it now is putting me on edge.

It turns out that everyone else is even more scared of them than I am and our cat is a complete and utter embarrassment to her species.

So it falls upon me to catch the pesky things. With great (parental) power comes great responsibility, it would seem.

And I hate it. I won’t kill them as I don’t think it’s right but, equally, I can’t go to bed until they’ve been caught and released.

Consequently, I’ve spent a fair amount of time steeling myself with a pint glass in one hand – other glasses aren’t wide enough for their arrogantly big leg span – and a piece of cardboard in the other.

Fortunately, we’ve got loads of this as the company paid by the council seems to have given up on collecting recycling.

Like Canada’s Mounties, I always get my man. Well, spider. But it’s never without drama, anguish, trembling hands, a thumping heart and bad dreams afterwards. I hate having to be brave!

It’s strange that I can be so calm about bigger worries – like continuing to earn enough to pay the bills and my upcoming appointment with a cardiologist – and yet be so frightened of creatures a fraction of my size.

However, I don’t intend to do anything about it. Other than writing this blog post, of course. I briefly considered adding a spider fear therapy course to my 40 before 40 list as it would probably be easier to deal with spiders if I were less afraid, but decided against it.

Why? Well, if I confronted it then I’d have no excuse but to go for a checkup with the dentist too.

What are your strange little fears? Would you do anything to confront them?


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