on the whole, I think I handled that rather well

You know how when you’re little and you see a spider and you scream for your dad to come kill it and you don’t shut up until he actually does? At some point in middle school I think my dad got tired of it and told me I had to deal with it myself, so the next time I saw a spider on the wall, I got a plastic cup and trapped it. And then I taped the cup really really well to the wall and it looked like a ghost was trying to eavesdrop through the wall. It looked creepy, so I just left it there for a long time. Also because yeah, I was definitely not killing that thing.

Every time my dad killed a spider for me, he’d always tell me they’re good, because blah blah blah. Spiders, I’m so glad you kill all the other mosquitoes and flies, but you’re still creepy crawly and I don’t want to eat you in my sleep. I’d ignore him and he’d kill the spider anyway, then solemnly look at the crumpled tissue and say “NO ONE is gonna mess with MY family. Freedom has been PRESERVED.”Okay dad. Thanks. That still doesn’t really make sense to me.

The thing is, I don’t mind spiders, except for when I see them. But I hate spiders especially when I don’t see them, like the gigantic spider I didn’t see on my shoulder today until this guy finally tapped my shoulder fifteen minutes into micro lab and tells me, “Uhh…there’s a huge spider on your shoulder. It’s been there at least since the start of class.”

I don’t know how y’all would have reacted to this, but this is how I reacted– crouched on the ground, head bent and my hands over my face: a perfect reenactment of the useless bomb drills we had in elementary school. Plus a scream–but maybe that was part of the drill too.

And you know what, that may have been weird but I AM NOT ASHAMED. IT WAS REALLY BIG, GUYS. What I am ashamed of though, is what happened next: a girl (in scrubs, no less) comes up, tell me to calm down, and  plucks the spider from my shoulder in her bare hands and leaves the building to set it free.

Leaving me standing by the doorway, still traumatized. And glaring back at the people staring. Come on, guys. What would you have done? I mean that as a completely rhetorical question to girl-in-scrubs because obviously she is a much better person than I am.  My only thought post-bomb drill pose was, FREEDOM MUST BE PRESERVED.

Which brings me to this: sometimes people ask me what’s wrong with me, but the real question is… shouldn’t you be used to this by now?