I have an odd relationship with spiders. (Yes, spiders.) In general, I allow them to live – inside or outside the house. Black widows, not so much. Those I kill because they are planning to hurt me. And when I find one inside the house (it’s happened), I can’t kill it fast enough.


But other spiders, I tend to leave be. I think the ones inside the house are going to get the flies that sneak in. Or the mosquitoes. And I count on those spiders for that.


What I do not count on are the indoor spiders that charge at me or challenge me. And I am not too keen on the ones that bite me in my sleep. This happens more often than you might believe, and I have just learned to live with it. That’s why when I recently thought I had a spider bite, I chose to ignore it, even though it was a gi-normous welt and quite painful. My buddy Baker Jen said I should see a doctor, as spiders can carry staph infection. Wha? This I did not know. Anyhoo, I checked with my doctor and he said that yes, I should come in to get checked.


I don’t want to give you the impression that our home looks like something from a scary movie, with sagging spider webs in every corner and doorway. I rarely see a web, and when I do it is quickly removed. I rarely see spiders. I just don’t freak out over them is all. Nature, you know?


Anyhoo, I did see the doctor and he said my welt was not a spider bite. And though it lasted a couple of weeks, it healed up just fine. Just when it was about gone, a spider was hiding in my covers and jumped on my hand while I was making the bed. I could actually see the danged thang trying to bite my finger. I flung it off and he sat there on the floor, watching me. As I was telling him how much I did not appreciate his attack, I squished him with a shoe.


That round went to me.

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