When it was sufficiently late we fetched the spare bed from the porch and brought it into the living room so I could sleep in the relative warmth of the house. As we moved it I noticed a cluster of spikey-looking pods in one corner of the frame.
I asked my host about it and he said "Oh yeah, those are just spider eggs."
Great. Since he didn't seem the slightest bit bothered, I obviously couldn't tarnish my manliness by saying anything to display my lack of appreciation for the arachnid class.
I turned off the lights and started thinking about the baby spiders lounging less than 2 feet from my head. The odds were good that they would just stay in their cozy little eggs. But what if the sudden presence of my body heat encouraged them to emerge and explore the new world while I slept? Might that exploration include my mouth? I had a brief mental image of waking up and finding myself covered with a hundred tiny black spiders.
But I steeled my mind, cherished the thought of telling my death-defying story at a later date, and went blissfully to sleep.
I'm happy to report that I was still alive when I woke up the next morning.
3 comments:
You're funny!
i.s.
Did you see Amy's black widow picture? Spiders...brrrhrhrhr.
One of my friend's favorite stories about me is when we were about 14 at camp, noticing a web with lots of tiny spiders in the top corner above her top bunk. I assumed they were dead, and told her not to worry. She was afraid, and I said I'd get rid of them. Scooped them up with a styrofoam cup, all brave, and someone says 'are they moving?' The thought of that possibility caused me to throw the cup in the air and onto the bed and basically leap off the top bunk faster than I've ever moved. Never knew if they were alive, and I slept in the 'spider' bed that night. Good choice to leave them untouched.
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