Anyone who knows me, strike that, anyone who's met me (even ever-so-briefly probably) knows that I am arachnophobic.
And I mean arachnophobic. Not a little. A lot.
The tiniest of spiders, tarantulas... all the same in my book. I will throw away goods if I find an old web in them. I cannot sleep in a room that has a spider in it - especially if it's crawled under or behind something and I can't see it. Every September I consider moving out of our house.
I have been carjacked by a spider. I kid you not.
Last night, on my way up the stairs to go to bed, I froze, one foot in the air, after catching sight of one of the eight-legged evil little freaks, casually hanging out on the wall.
I called the husband.
He came to the top of the stairs and said, "What?!" I could only point. His response?
"It's not doing any harm."
Ohhhhhhhh! How silly of me? Has that been the secret all along?! Well, now that I know it's not doing any harm, I'm completely cured! Thank you, husband, for your wise words have opened my eyes to the truth of the world and I am now unfettered of my fear and can go through life blithely picking up and tongue-kissing spiders!
If only I'd known...
Suffice it to say, I made him come downstairs and get the damn spider.