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 I feel like a monster.
by Bethany
So, I killed a spider this morning in the shower. I hesitate to even write about it for fear of reactions - either those who will think me wimpy, or those who will think me cruel. Most people fall into three categories of co-spider existence: 1 - they don't like them and squish them with anything possible, 2 - they scream like death until someone else comes to take care of it, or 3 - they get angry when people kill spiders and belong to the catch and release mindset (or else are mildly uncaring, ie: the cohabitate mindset!).
I have always been in the first two. I used to scream when I saw one. I had to have someone else come in and take care of it. I felt like my skin was crawling, and wanted to weep. Luckily, I grew out of this phase in high school. Then I became a member of the "squish them myself" society. I would boldly step on, swat at, spray, and on rare occasions catch spiders with wild abandon. As long as I could squash them and they weren't too big, or too hairy, I was not too frightened of them.
So, this morning I noticed movement as soon as I was in the shower, and saw a decent sized, eight-legged creature wiggling in the corner, near the ceiling. It was a wood spider, looked like a daddy long legs, and was not an uncommon sight in my place... I think I could start a farm of them. I have had them fall into my hair before, find them on my counters, floors, walls, etc. I'm not living in the movie Arachnophobia, but about once a week, I have a duel - me with a tissue, each of them with... webbing?
Before you think me too mean, I should say that I tried to shower peacefully. I turned my back, wet my hair and grabbed the shampoo (checking periodically for movement!). Each time I checked, the thing was dropping down and swinging, climbing on the top of the curtain and heading for the shower head. Each time it swung down, I jumped, expecting it to... well... to land in my shower! I was in a rush to finish up and get on with my day (S.O. to work, car to shop, me to job, etc.), and didn't have time to obsess, so when it came a little closer to the head and was on the shower wall, I struck with my Tom's of Maine soap bottle lid.
It fell to the edge of the tub and was briskly washed down the drain with stray hairs, and whatever grime I may have collected since yesterday. I'm not sure if it was the washing away that did it, or the watching him weave before he decided to move, but I actually felt guilty, and a sense of grief. He was just doing his thing. He was using his limbs to weave a silky home and explore the surroundings. It was probably getting humid for him (with my shower running), and he was looking for a breeze. And then BAM! No more "just doing his thing." I crushed his plans, and his spinning, along with his small physique.
I have a friend who will not kill mosquitoes because she believes they are little souls, too. I have always thought she was crazy and have slapped away at them with near enjoyment on summer evenings. Today, I feel like I might understand a little better where she is coming from. Someday when I have kids, I don't want to teach them to stomp on and squish smaller creatures. No matter how grossed out I may be, I intend to capture and release each one to their world (outside of the walls of my home!). To look after and protect those smaller and weaker than us (even if only a spider) is a trait I hope my children develop. Is this the start of that? Am I just growing more hippie-ish by the minute? Do spiders even have souls? I have no idea, but the image of the quarter-sized creature wiggling his legs a few at a time, tending to his day's work, followed by the image of him slipping into the city of Portland's sewage system has done its form of haunting me throughout the day.
I feel like a monster.
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