Not Arachnaphobic

My husband posted this to his blog on the 31st:

Not a story about Black Widow Spiders

On Sunday, Yvette and I were rearranging stuff in the garage in preparation for the roofing guys to come in and tear the roof off way too early in the morning on Monday. During the course of moving all the boxes around and covering stuff up, we managed to disturb a spider. I looked over at Yvette, and I saw a large, globular black spider crawling up her neck.

Now, it so happens that Black Widow spiders aren't all that uncommon around here, and from a few feet away, this thing really, really looked like a Black Widow. I attempted to calmly say "Hold still" so I could brush it off her without her getting bitten, but apparently my eyes gave me away, and Yvette totally freaked out. So she's shaking all of her clothing out and moving around, while I'm trying to get her to stand still so I can find the stupid spider and get it off her before she gets bitten.

Mentioning that I thought the spider was a Black Widow was decidedly not helpful. It probably would have been comical if we weren't doing such a good job of completely panicking each other. Yvette managed to get the spider off of herself, and I eventually recovered it. It turned out to most likely be Steatoda grossa, a much
less dangerous relative of the Black Widow.

After the incident, Yvette and I talked about what we might have done differently. We didn't really come up with anything, other than possibly running "Spider Drills". I'd just walk up to her and calmly say "Don't move" or something similar, and we'd practice not freaking each other out. I really hated the feeling of the whole thing spiraling out of control like that, with everything I said and did just making the situation worse.

I wanted to tell my own version of the story as I remember, or don't remember, it because there are two funny things and one "interesting" one.

First, you have to know what I'm wearing during this panic: Comfy cotton Eddie Bauer Crossover Tank and sweatpants. That becomes important, because my arms, shoulders and neck were all exposed.

There are two reasons I panicked. The first one is that I believe I "sensed" the spider. When Mark first gave me THAT LOOK, instead of freezing in place and taking a deep breath (something I'd like to learn to do for the future), I took a swipe at my own right neck/shoulder area and jumped a foot to the left (Screaming like a banshee). Once the flight response kicked in, I COULD NOT STOP doing this shivery mini-bolt from place to place.

What happened next is that I had somehow obscured the spider (or perhaps had gotten him off me). Mark couldn't get close to me to see it, and when he did, he started gently trying to figure out if the spider had escaped into my hair. MY HAIR?!?!?!?

A few light, tickling searches through the curls, and there was MUCH more screaming and bending over and shaking and clawing and panic. Finally, even though only moments have passed, I'm trying to get calm, saying "What do I do?! What do I do?!" and Mark replies, "You need to get all your clothes off NOW and go take a shower."

Here's the funny bit: I tear off my top and drop my pants, screaming and wobbling with adrenaline...only to suddenly realize the garage door is up, and I am naked to the whole neighborhood. Always a winner for spreading CALM.

I ran to the shower, washing my hair bent over forward, hoping that it would prevent the spider in my hair from crawling down my naked back. I was in there a LONG time, feeling desperately like I couldn't get clean, shaking from the epinephrine aftershocks.

What is interesting is that normally, Mark can keep me pretty calm - I trust him completely. I blame my spider-sense for the initial panic, and hope that over the next 50 years of our marriage we do figure out how to better care for each other in crisis. I *do* think Spider Drills are a good idea.