Wuss?
I'm not I'm not sure what to think of myself this morning. Am I a wuss, do I care about life, am I stupid for thinking so hard about this?
This morning after showering, I came out of the bathroom to find a huge spider on the wall opposite the bathroom door, just about a foot to the left of the light switch. Now, this wasn't just a daddy-long legs or anything. Those, I can deal with. It was (legs spread as they were) just a little smaller than my palm. It looked like a hunting spider of some sort, though I don't know what it was beyond that.
Now, many things zip through my head as I stand there:
Is it dangerous, what will johnny think if he sees the spider, will that even fit in a cup, will the spider brush off on someone, will it stay there, will it wander into someone's room and bite them, what about Johnny, will it disappear, why am I scared of this thing, is it asleep, why am I afraid to turn on the light, if I hafta squish this thing ... what am I going to use, I wish I had pants on, I wish I had shoes on, is it safe to get past it, what will Johnny think, will it chase me if I miss with a cup or boot, will it move if I go downstairs for a cup or boot, will it follow me, are there more, what will Johnny think of this thing, if I set it outside...will it just come back, after I have it in a cup can I throw it without it getting close to me, can I get it in a cup, what about Johnny, what am I going to do?
Following those mental questions, came my mental answers:
Maybe, he might freak out - he doesn't like spiders, I really don't think so, possibly, probably, maybe, it'll scare him (like it scared me....only more), I hope not, because..., I think so, because it's RIGHT there next to the switch, I could get a boot from downstairs, underwear would be nice too, my feet feel unprotected, maybe...afterall...I think I passed it coming into the bathroom, he'll be scared...I think, I hope not...maybe, maybe...I hope not, probably...I hope not, *looks around* I don't SEE any...please let there be no more, he might be scared (kinda like I am right now), probably, I don't know...depends on webbing and stick-to-it-ness, no, I don't know, I'm going to kill it - how can I just kill it?
Now, the human mind amazes me. I went through all this stuff in just a few seconds.
Anyway, I had come upon my answer. To save everyone more trouble in the long run, and in case it was dangerous, I would steel myself and squish it. My heart ached. I abhor killing...bugs included. So, I go downstairs, watching the spider for as long as possible...then I dash to find my boot - black with small amounts of yellow. When I get down there, there are many boots; mine and my roomates'. I ponder which would make the best implement of death and decide that, although my roommates flat-soled shoes would work best, I would use mine. Somewhere in my mind, there was doubt that his would work properly - like at the crucial moment, it would balk somehow. Then, cautiously, I head back up the stairs. I look at the walls and the ceiling (did I look at the ceiling?) and watched particularly carefully for any sign of movement from behind Johnny's sketches that decorated the left-hand wall.
Nothing. Relief...but only a little.
I get upstairs to find that the spider was still there. I knew that it was wrong - what I was about to do - but that I couldn't think of anything else that I was brave enough to do. I was letting my fear push me to murder.
I'm sure that right now you're just thinking I'm a bit melodramatic...or some kind of hippy. I honestly can't say either way. All I know is that I feel how I feel.
Getting along, I prepared myself - though I felt I couldn't be. I stood in the doorway to the bathroom, trying to psych myself up to do it. I fussed with my boot - turning it about in my hand, feeling the heft of it, trying to situate it...grip it.
Finally, I gritted my teeth and swung. II struck it head-on with the boot then dragged it across the wall - smearing chunks of spider in a downward arc across the wall...stopping just below the light switch. Brown and red, wet, but not...streaming across the wall. Straight spindles of its exoskeleton strewn upon the wall. A hanging grave that would not be seen.
I couldn't stand what I did. I dropped the boot and turned away. After a few seconds, I composed myself by thinking what others would see in me after watching what I had done. They would probably have just squished the thing and been done. Why can't I just do that?
After what felt like murder, I grabbed a washcloth and wet it down. There is a lot more in a spider than you might suspect. It left behind a 4x12 inch streak of what was once life. So much for such a small creature. As I mopped up the mess on the wall, I saw the chunks of body left behind and felt squeamish.
After trying to clean up the mess, I reached for my boot and I hurt inside. That feeling deep inside your stomach when you realize you've done a horrible thing. Lying there next to my boot was the spider. There was still some excruciating life left in the creature - its two remaining limbs flailing, reaching to me with finality. I gasped in horror at what I had done. I failed to kill the creature. I just left it to silently scream in pain.
I grabbed my boot - that horrible weapon - and crushed what remained. I rubbed it into the carpet until there was nothing left. Nothing left to hurt.
This morning after showering, I came out of the bathroom to find a huge spider on the wall opposite the bathroom door, just about a foot to the left of the light switch. Now, this wasn't just a daddy-long legs or anything. Those, I can deal with. It was (legs spread as they were) just a little smaller than my palm. It looked like a hunting spider of some sort, though I don't know what it was beyond that.
Now, many things zip through my head as I stand there:
Is it dangerous, what will johnny think if he sees the spider, will that even fit in a cup, will the spider brush off on someone, will it stay there, will it wander into someone's room and bite them, what about Johnny, will it disappear, why am I scared of this thing, is it asleep, why am I afraid to turn on the light, if I hafta squish this thing ... what am I going to use, I wish I had pants on, I wish I had shoes on, is it safe to get past it, what will Johnny think, will it chase me if I miss with a cup or boot, will it move if I go downstairs for a cup or boot, will it follow me, are there more, what will Johnny think of this thing, if I set it outside...will it just come back, after I have it in a cup can I throw it without it getting close to me, can I get it in a cup, what about Johnny, what am I going to do?
Following those mental questions, came my mental answers:
Maybe, he might freak out - he doesn't like spiders, I really don't think so, possibly, probably, maybe, it'll scare him (like it scared me....only more), I hope not, because..., I think so, because it's RIGHT there next to the switch, I could get a boot from downstairs, underwear would be nice too, my feet feel unprotected, maybe...afterall...I think I passed it coming into the bathroom, he'll be scared...I think, I hope not...maybe, maybe...I hope not, probably...I hope not, *looks around* I don't SEE any...please let there be no more, he might be scared (kinda like I am right now), probably, I don't know...depends on webbing and stick-to-it-ness, no, I don't know, I'm going to kill it - how can I just kill it?
Now, the human mind amazes me. I went through all this stuff in just a few seconds.
Anyway, I had come upon my answer. To save everyone more trouble in the long run, and in case it was dangerous, I would steel myself and squish it. My heart ached. I abhor killing...bugs included. So, I go downstairs, watching the spider for as long as possible...then I dash to find my boot - black with small amounts of yellow. When I get down there, there are many boots; mine and my roomates'. I ponder which would make the best implement of death and decide that, although my roommates flat-soled shoes would work best, I would use mine. Somewhere in my mind, there was doubt that his would work properly - like at the crucial moment, it would balk somehow. Then, cautiously, I head back up the stairs. I look at the walls and the ceiling (did I look at the ceiling?) and watched particularly carefully for any sign of movement from behind Johnny's sketches that decorated the left-hand wall.
Nothing. Relief...but only a little.
I get upstairs to find that the spider was still there. I knew that it was wrong - what I was about to do - but that I couldn't think of anything else that I was brave enough to do. I was letting my fear push me to murder.
I'm sure that right now you're just thinking I'm a bit melodramatic...or some kind of hippy. I honestly can't say either way. All I know is that I feel how I feel.
Getting along, I prepared myself - though I felt I couldn't be. I stood in the doorway to the bathroom, trying to psych myself up to do it. I fussed with my boot - turning it about in my hand, feeling the heft of it, trying to situate it...grip it.
Finally, I gritted my teeth and swung. II struck it head-on with the boot then dragged it across the wall - smearing chunks of spider in a downward arc across the wall...stopping just below the light switch. Brown and red, wet, but not...streaming across the wall. Straight spindles of its exoskeleton strewn upon the wall. A hanging grave that would not be seen.
I couldn't stand what I did. I dropped the boot and turned away. After a few seconds, I composed myself by thinking what others would see in me after watching what I had done. They would probably have just squished the thing and been done. Why can't I just do that?
After what felt like murder, I grabbed a washcloth and wet it down. There is a lot more in a spider than you might suspect. It left behind a 4x12 inch streak of what was once life. So much for such a small creature. As I mopped up the mess on the wall, I saw the chunks of body left behind and felt squeamish.
After trying to clean up the mess, I reached for my boot and I hurt inside. That feeling deep inside your stomach when you realize you've done a horrible thing. Lying there next to my boot was the spider. There was still some excruciating life left in the creature - its two remaining limbs flailing, reaching to me with finality. I gasped in horror at what I had done. I failed to kill the creature. I just left it to silently scream in pain.
I grabbed my boot - that horrible weapon - and crushed what remained. I rubbed it into the carpet until there was nothing left. Nothing left to hurt.