BLOG WARNING: If spiders freak you out, pour your favorite adult beverage and take a sip or two before you continue. Keep refilling as needed.
Last night in the middle of the night; was it a dream or was it real?
I don’t know what sleep state I was in, but I FELT something crawly on my arm.
You know how sometimes dreams can be SO real?
Like when you have to pee but you’re not sure if it’s just a dream or for reals and your subconscious says if you don’t wake up RIGHT NOW YOU ARE GOING TO PEE THE BED and then you’ll remember next time that you should have listened?
No? Just me?
Well, this time I dragged myself out of whatever level I was in and woke all the way up and saw that I was holding my left arm with my right hand, which was pretty amazing in its own right, right?
I ever so carefully turned over and flipped on my bedside lamp with my left hand all the while holding firm with my right hand to my left arm. Get the picture?
Can we say awkward?
Slowly, ever so slowly, I cautiously spread apart my fingers — which by now had a major death grip on my left bicep.
OH HELL NO.
YUP, IT WAS A SPIDER.
IT WAS A MOTHERF***ING SPIDER.
BIG AND BLACK WITH EIGHT NASTY HAIRY BLACK LEGS.
(Thank goodness it wasn’t a black widow, but I wasn’t thinking about that at that moment.)
ALL HELL WAS BREAKING LOOSE IN MY HEAD.
A SPIDER WAS ON ME.
How did he get there?
What would have happened if I hadn’t awakened?
What if it bit me? OMG.
What do I do? What would YOU do? I didn’t know what to do.
My heart was beating so hard that I thought it was gonna pop out of my ribcage and I simultaneously started swearing and hyperventilating.
I only had two arms and two hands and they were still clenching each other and trying to contain the dinner plate-sized SPIDER from moving anywhere. (It wasn’t that big, but you know, that’s how it FELT.)
I mean, what the hell do you do in that situation?
If I took my hand away, he would continue on his merry way up my arm to who knows where, and if I smashed it ON my arm, I’d have a dead spider with spider juices all over my arm.
Quite the dilemma I was in, don’t you agree?
With my agile toes, I grabbed the tissue box that was on the floor conveniently nearby ‘cos I’d been having allergies and was sniffly.
With my right hand still virtually superglued to my left arm, all those years of ballet training came into play as I plucked a tissue from the box with the toes of my right foot and very gracefully (NOT) brought my toes and my mouth to meet, kind of contorting in a forward fold OVER my arms.
Envision a human quesadilla.
Good to know I’m still as flexible as a twenty-year-old, I noted to myself with pride…
With the tissue secured in my mouth, in the blink of an eye, I lifted my right hand, grabbed the tissue, and scooped up the probably by now brain damaged spider where I believe he’d been paralyzed in terror, ran to the bathroom, threw the spider-filled tissue in the toilet, and flushed.
Bye-bye spider. On to the afterlife for you.
Who could get back to sleep, right? I was traumatized. I grabbed my laptop, Tweeted about the incident and composed a list of things to do the next day, which always calms me down. List making is like that.
Which brings us to retail therapy.
I’m gearing up for a daylong shopping excursion to South Coast Plaza (OMM) and thought it’d be good idea to start with a little local therapy.
I mean you wouldn’t run a full marathon without first trying out a half marathon, right?
After Boot Camp, I hit all of the local spots in an impromptu training sesh – Target, Michaels, World Market, Tuesday Morning, Marshalls — flexing my shopping muscles and getting my groove back.
I was pleased not to have lost my quick reflexes; whipping out the plastic in 2.5 seconds, tying my former record.
A couple of necessities, a tray adorned with roses (how could I resist), pink push up bra, cutest ever flip-flops, not too bad, nothing spectacular, nothing major, even a couple of one dollar books from the library.
No Chanel, no Louby heels, no jewelry…baby steps, baby steps.
It felt good, though…real good — to get back in the saddle.
It really is just like riding a bicycle, you never forget.
And the retail therapy successfully helped to erase the psychological trauma of sleeping with a spider.
Next time, watch out! South Coast Plaza, here I come.