My Wife Hates Spiders

My wife hates spiders. She has a sort of radar that enables her to spot them from fifty paces in dense fog. By way of circumstance, I’ve become an accomplished killer of spiders.

Before my marriage, in my care/hygiene-free days, I lived in an aluminum shack – the four walls of which barely contained the soiled dishes and widely strewn loose-leaf of my thousands of great beginnings to novels that would never be. Spiders lived with me in my hovel. Some of the spiders lived in complex layers of webs elaborately constructed over time, most with better furniture than I owned. Some of the spiders were just transients that had heard of the fabled land where spiders and man lived in peace.

Yes, the spiders stopped the truly offensive bugs from muscling into my home – those bugs with malignant souls. Little brown shiny squiggle bodied earwigs, or the annoying housefly lived very short lives at my bachelor pad.

Now, in order to appease my wife, I kill spiders that trespass upon the trunk of my wife’s car outside of Blockbuster. I kill without conscience, without regret. I have become cold and unconcerned with the plight of my old eight-legged allies.

The other day I saw a spider outside our front door, living in a gap in the wall behind our porch light. The little loner was an odd-looking, even for a spider. His body was distinctly segmented and encased in the shiny black of a beetle’s carapace, with legs that bent above its body. It looked a bit like an ant, but slightly more menacing. But I didn’t kill it. Here in this spot the spider had set up its home and gone about collecting the various flying insects that flung themselves at our light fixture, and spent the rest of its time tucked in its little niche and dreamed little arachnid dreams.

I felt all warm and loving suddenly, not just because I had spared its life. But because here was a living sentient thing that was having a really good life. It had food, shelter and, I imagined, it was content. All I had to do in order to allow this perfect life to continue was to not kill it, and turn on the light every now and then in the evening.

I felt like a man who had turned coat on his old comrades, and had been offered reconciliation by offering asylum to a lone and stranded soldier. Of course I am prone to melodrama.

It is starting to get cold in the evening and the spider may try to get into the house for the winter. I hope for his/her sake it does not. After all - my wife hates spiders.
awar44 awar44
41-45, M
2 Responses Jul 16, 2010

Well written:-) I let my spiders be

I love this story, so well written :) Thanks muchly for sharing it :)