Phobias

Phobias are very strange things. One second you can be perfectly content, happily reading away at some novel, and the next second you can spot that one thing that brings you terror and you can’t focus on anything else.

I’m afraid my phobia is quite common. I’ve overcome my fear to the point where I would hardly call it a phobia anymore, but still once I see the fear inducing creature I must kill it.

Damn spiders, they cannot live in my presence.

This post was inspired by the little menace that was residing above my bookcase. It nested itself in the cranny between the wall and ceiling so that it was damn near impossible to kill. That wasn’t going to stop me though. There was no way that I would be able to leave my room knowing that it could end up anywhere if I took my eyes off of it.

I plotted, planned, and eventually made up my mind to hit the sucker with an aerosol spray. My first attempt was a failure, but the air frightened the sucker enough that it ran up onto the ceiling. Sounds great right? I mean, now I have an angle with which I can hit the spider without the probability of missing. Theory is not the same as execution. I hit the spider alright, but the cottage-cheese ceilings installed in the house made it so that my shoe simply morphed around the spider and he fell down from the force of the air. Not cool. Especially because the arachnid ended up falling into my makeup ladder.

With it no longer in my eye line, panic filtered through me. What if when I was going to put on makeup at a later time, the spider was lying in wait, patiently waiting to attack me? What if it nested inside my makeup brushes and had a million little spider babies to do its bidding?

All the thoughts in my head were not good ones. That was why I decided it was a great idea to douse my shelf in flea killing spray, hoping that it would at least slow down the little piece of crap. I was correct in my assumptions. And finally something worked out. I cornered the arachnid smashed him a good three to six times with a can of hair spray, and then flushed his remains.

The spider is dead, but my feelings of safety are nowhere to be seen and all of my beauty products are covered in a nice layer of spray. At least I accomplished the endeavor I set forth to conquer.

Small favors indeed.

~Johana Spade

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