Yesterday morning, before the break of dawn, I stumbled half-asleep toward my car and ran face-first into this:
It’s an Orb Weaver.
It also apparently hates us, because it specifically builds webs at eye-level every day at dusk.
I’ve seen them hanging off trees in our neighborhood before. They come in the summer time, especially when the humidity kicks in.
Yet there’s a world of difference between seeing these suckers in the light of day so that you can avoid them, and running right into one in the darkness, feeling it crawl over your skull while you’re simultaneously trying to remove its sticky webbing from your face and upper torso, feeling it starting to sink its teeth into your arm after you swiped it off your head, thinking it had fallen to the ground, but nope, there it is, and you’re dancing in your driveway like a mad shaman summoning the rain, lunch cooler and gym bag swinging wildly, inadvertently cutting into your flesh with your car keys until you finally feel the juices of the enemy’s smooshed body covering your palm.
It must have been a sight to see, but no one else is up at 4:30 in the morning.
As I drove to the gym, all I could think about was the absurdity of the situation and did that little fucker actually bite me? I don’t even know if those spiders are poisonous…ahhh, what if I’m at work and I suddenly pass out and die of asphyxia? I think I upped my life insurance earlier this year.
The writer’s imagination is something to behold!
But later, when it became a distant, humorous memory, I realized that avoiding spider webs in the daytime is not exciting. It’s not worthy of a story. Unless you’re doing so while escaping communist insurgents in the jungles of Colombia, no one cares.
You know what’s better?
Running face-first into spiders.