I am not down with arthropods

The weather here has been amazing the last two days. Sometimes I remember why I don't completely hate Wisconsin. I would say the exhilaration of springtime makes the six to seven months of dreary weather almost worth it, but I'd totally be lying. I suppose it's an okay consolation prize, though.

We have walked all over town yesterday and today. It's impossible to stay indoors. I very seriously considered sleeping on the front porch last night, but then there are the spiders and the Asian beetles and the spiders. And, oh yeah, the spiders. I have never seen so many spiders in my life. Can anyone tell me why other people's front porches do not have this kind of spider infestation? Is there a magical powder I can sprinkle all over to keep them away? Or are they just drawn to the scent of arachnophobes?

This reminds me. Last night I came downstairs (barefoot) and went into the kitchen (with no shoes on). I stopped in my (shoeless) tracks and gaped as something huge and dark scurried across the floor and hid under the baby swing. My first impulse was to shriek loudly enough that the thing would just disintegrate right there on the floor. But I didn't want to wake The Child, who was sleeping very well for the first time in weeks. So I swallowed it. What came out was something like what might happen when you step on a cat who's choking on a mouse.

James came to investigate; I handed him a fly swatter and made urgent girlie noises at the swing while doing something that looked like the potty dance. Did I mention my feet were naked? I keep imagining the thing racing across my bare toes and breaking into cold sweats. The foolish man has still not learned to interpret the gibberish that comes out of my face when I'm panicking. It took him far too long to find it, exclaim, "Oh! That's a HUGE spider!" and whack it with the fly swatter (hah! what a humiliating death for a spider!). By that point I was sitting on a bar stool with my (BARE!) feet in the air.

I hate that I'm such a nancy about spiders. I have tried, really I have. I have other fears that I've conquered or at least learned to choke down: talking on the telephone, public speaking (if I must), the dark, doctors, and a couple others. But I think the arachnophobia is here to stay.

So, today, I was sitting on the toilet. I know, I know. But it's important.

I was sitting on the toilet, minding my own business, when I felt something CRAWLING on my BUTT. My butt, people. I figured it was just me being crazy and paranoid, and it was just a hair floating off my head, or a piece of tissue sticking up from the trash can, or a figment of my imagination. Nope! No, it was not. I brushed my hand against my skin, and I touched something. And that something squirmed. I nearly flung my laptop into the bathtub (shut up).

I was frozen between the need to investigate and the need to not stand up just then. Then, thank goodness, the something buzzed. Oh, a bee! Bees I can handle! I am cool with bees! It flew off my butt and over to the window pane next to me, where it sat, probably terrified out of its tiny little mind--first, because no one really needs that close a look at my bare hindquarters, and second, because the Hand of Doom nearly took its life. I do not know which was scarier for it.

So, while I love spring and all, and I wouldn't take it back for anything in the world, ENOUGH with the FAUNA already. It's too early for this. I am accustomed to running around all summer in fear. Spring I reserve for carefree joy.