You already know a fair bit about my ongoing battles with arachnophobia.
And you know how, in very-very-small-but-significant ways, I’ve become increasingly able to cope with encountering spiders in my daily life.
On the positive end of the spectrum, there was the time I saw a spider in my hair whilst driving and managed to restrain myself from freaking out and crashing my vee-hick-el, which would have been to the detriment of not only myself but everyone else on the road at the time.
That was a triumph. A triumph over the nasty spider gods.
On the less positive end of the spectrum, there was the time I stopped breathing and froze in place on my bed because I saw a big black spider in my room.
A big black spider that turned out to be an image of a spider printed on a sock I’ve owned for years.
That was a defeat. A defeat by the nasty spider gods.
Then there was two days ago. Two days ago, I’m not really sure who won in the ongoing saga of Spiders vs. Hannah. You see, there was a really, really, really scary-looking, non-huntsman, thick-bodied, big-fanged arachnid in my bathroom.
It was curled on its back on the tiles, not moving.
Despite my rational self knowing what the situation was, and knowing that the spider wasn’t going to be able to harm anything, human or insect, ever again, I still found myself putting an extremely large bowl over the top of it and leaving said bowl in place for 24 hours before sliding a newspaper underneath and taking the spider’s body outside.
Just in case it was faking.
At least I can always win at making Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake in a Mug.