The Rationale and Musings of a Paranoid


I am not sure I qualify anymore as having a true paranoia of arachnids – as I have been forced to encounter them for over 50 years now and believe desensitization has chipped away at it.  However I can say, without pause, a healthy aversion remains.  Take last night.

I was walking to the kitchen to refill my drinking glass when I spied a rather large spider preparing for attack near the refrigerator.  Its location upon discovery put me well within jumping distance for said arachnid.  Now, the younger me would have gone toes up with a little squeak.  The Desensitized me gave it a wide berth and watched in horror as it skittled on those spindly legs to turn itself so it was always facing me.  I think I passed a bit of gas in fear – so, still squeaking after all.

Now, my sons are grown and out of the house.  My husband was asleep.  (Oh, I thought about waking him up to kill the spider.  I thought about it HARD).  But love conquers all, so I fell back on Plan B.  I tossed a dishtowel on it and then jumped on the dishtowel and did the Watusi.  Then I left the dishtowel on the floor because that is my modus operandi.

When called upon to dispatch of the vermin myself, I normally drop large, heavy books (phone books were great!) on them and then walk away.  I have depended on room mates, husbands, sons, best friends, etc. to pick up after me.   When I was single and without a room mate, I simply let it lie for about a week.  My husband once asked my why I did not pick up after myself once the deed was done.  I explained, “Because, hopefully it’s dead.  But if it’s not, it’s going to be REALLY pissed”.

This morning, I was the first one up.  Again, considered waking my protector.  There lay the dishtowel in the disheveled condition I had left it in.  Was it dead?  Dare I?  I bent to pick it up with every hair follicle on my body standing at attention.  I balled the dishtowel up HARD and quickly, into the size of about a plum. I tossed it into the dirty linens basket on top of the washer.  Then, exhaled.

When Fred gets up, I’m going to have him move the dirty linens into the washer.  I am also going to place large books in every room of the house and stock up on brandy.

The Fine Print


Raising animals is fun….in large print.  You see signs like “KITTENS!”, “PUPPIES!”, “PIGLETS!”, “BABY CHICKS!” and some maternal gong goes off in your head and you think, “I MUST see it”.  You fool yourself and possibly others by saying, “I just want to look”.  And then you look at these helpless mewling, yipping, snorting, peeping things and the desire to protect blooms in your heart like a rose.  Ah, but roses come with thorns.  Do they not?

Here’s the fine print:

  1. All living things must eat and have fresh water daily.
  2. Most of the animals listed above require food that must be bought often and for the life of the animal.
  3. Exception to rule #2 is pigs – they will eat ANYTHING.
  4. Addendum to rule #3 – you cannot keep up with the appetite of a pig.  Supplemental feed is required.
  5. Supplemental feed must be bought often and for the life of the animal.
  6. What goes into an animal is going to come out of the other end.
  7. Animals do not clean up after themselves – that’s your job until they die.
  8. Some can be trained to perform #6 in a specific area (dogs/cats) BUT see # 9 and # 10.
  9. If they live with you, they cannot excuse themselves like we do – you must take them to the designated spot.
  10. If they have access to said designated spot in the house – you are required to move it out of the house.

What to see the whole document, fine print and all?  Spend the day with someone who has the animal you are pining for and see what is required of you in just one day of care.  Now multiply that by 4-18 years.  Yeah.


The idiot that did not read the fine print and now finds herself broke and up to her elbows in #6.