I was molested by a spider.

Are spiders supposed to be smart? Can they tell who exactly in the room despises them the most and then decide to attack them? Am I giving them too much credit? I ask because two nights ago I was sitting on our living room couch with the hubby and my brother. I hate, despise and fear spiders. The other two don’t really seem to care about them either way. Then there was the spider. I don’t know where it came from or how long it was there. Probably not long since I kind of sorta have radar for them and usually spot their location even when no one else seemed to notice. All I know was out of the entire house it decided the spot on the ceiling above our couch was a prime location. And it also decided I was the one it was looking for and not the other two warm bodies on the couch.

Before I had a chance to spot it and sick one of the men to kill it, the spider dropped. ON ME! Welcome to my biggest fear. A spider dropping and/or finding a way to touch me is a thought that can send me running from a room from even the tiniest of spiders. It makes my skin crawl and my insides scream just writing this. Anyway, the spider decided to make my fear a reality. Did it land on my head? No. My lap? Nope. It landed on my chest and scurried down my FREAKING shirt. Yes, I was molested by a spider in my very own house and somehow lived to tell about it. It’s a miracle. Or an overreaction but who’s really keeping score?

The second I felt it hit my skin I knew what it was without even seeing it. No I don’t mean I knew it was a bug. I mean I KNEW it was a spider because this is my life and what else would really drop on me of all people? Exactly. I screamed, jumped off the couch and proceeded to claw my own chest to get it off. It’s actually amazing I didn’t rip my shirt off which my brother is very appreciative for. So I guess even in pure panic my brain still had enough sense not to strip. Thank God for that. However what my brain couldn’t do was register pain since I scratched the hell out of my skin to get the spider away as fast as possible and had no idea I was attacking myself. I didn’t draw blood but I was pretty damn close.

The second the spider was out of my shirt and I saw it fly back towards the couch I ran to the opposite side of the room and hyperventilated. My hubby did a little dance to get off the couch since in my panic I sort of threw the spider at him. Sorry babe! He killed it of course and then stared in awe at the scratches on my chest. Honestly? It sort of looked like I was attacked by some poltergeist like in haunting movies except I did it to myself while conscious and still hadn’t even felt anything. That came a few minutes later and it stung like hell. A little while later, after my breathing returned to normal and I convinced myself to sit on the couch again a disturbing realization hit. That evil little pervert of a spider?

It got to second base with me.

Yup. This is my life people. You can’ even almost make this shit up.

Blogging while hyperventilating is probably a bad idea.

I’m freaking the hell out right now! A thing I dread and fear everyday just happened and I’m losing my mind! A spider just walked on my foot! Just now when I was sitting on the couch watching a movie. I hate those things with a passion and the idea of one touching me sends me into a near panic attack. I was just sitting here and I suddenly felt that creepy crawly feeling and looked and there it was on my toe. I flung my foot like crazy while trying very hard not to scream since it was past 4am and I didn’t want my husband waking up thinking I was being murdered or something.

I basically had a mini panic attack right at that second because it had just been touching me and then I didn’t know where it went when I freaked out and I didn’t want to touch the floor because it might touch me again. I could barely breathe and was all hot and sweating while frantically trying to spot the evil thing on the floor. I finally found it hiding under the coffee table after sprinting across the living room to get to the flash light to help me see it. I probably woke up our downstairs neighbors when I beat the thing to its death with my husband shoe. It had to be his shoe because I could never actually use my own. Ew! Then I got it with a tissue and threw it in the toilet and flushed. When I opened the lid the damn thing was still there floating dead in the water! It was like it was haunting me from my toilet. I flushed like 6 more times to be sure it was gone. Then I sanitized the shoe, my hands and of course my foot. I scrubbed my foot so hard it hurts.

Now I’m all freaked out and can’t stop looking around making sure another one isn’t near me. I keep feeling like something is crawling all over me and it’s creeping me out! I can’t stand spiders. They should all just be gone. I know they serve some purpose and blah blah blah but they scare the shit out of me! If they could all just stay outside and never come near me at all then I could deal with them. I can’t get myself to go to bed now because I’m afraid one will crawl on me in my sleep. So now it’s almost 6am and I’m blogging about it since there’s nothing else I can do. My choice is write about it or panic and I’m doing both.

Someone get me a brown paper bag. Or an oxygen tank.

A trip to the doctor’s office is like getting into a biohazard bucket!

I love this sign!
My husband had to see his doctor yesterday for a check-up because he’s conscious about his health because I made him and I went along for the visit. Not because it’s fun or anything but because we had things to do afterwards and it was just easier. I really should have thought it through more though. I seem to have a form of amnesia that made me forget how scary a doctor’s waiting room can be for a (minor) germaphobe! You would think I would remember this better but for some reason it didn’t pop into my mind until we walked through the door. I swear, in the few seconds it took him to check in at the desk I heard two high powered sneezes, three shallow coughs and one that sounded like it was coughing up both lungs. Every inch of my body cringed and my brain screamed, “RUN!” My husband, knowing me so well looked at me with pity and patted my knee. It was sweet and all but it would have been so much better if he whipped out a hazmat suit and an industrial size bottle of air sanitizer.

There were three people ahead of us so I knew I was going to be sitting there for a while. My brain started replaying the horrible information that a sneeze causes snot and saliva infested germs to fly through the air at 95 miles per hour and can travel up to 150 feet. I’m not good at measurements at all, but it was even within my grasp to realize there was no way to be in this room and 150 feet away from each person at the same time. I also happened to remember a terrifying little fact I recently learned that I wish I could unlearn. Apparently, in the average human sneeze there are about 40,000 droplets of mucus flying out of your nose/mouth. Even people who aren’t germaphobic have to find that utterly disgusting, right? I have the urge to wash just thinking about that. Yuck.

As we sat there I was trying to think about anything except disease, germs and soap but it wasn’t easy. I would find a way to get relaxed and hacker john would start up again. Before I knew it a new infected human walked in the office and instead of sitting in one of the many (and I mean many) open chairs she picked the one next to me. She had about 10 other choices but she must have like my shirt or something, I don’t know. She then decided to chat with me in between her sniffles and coughing. I don’t really consider that a good time to talk, maybe it’s good for moving into isolation but not to strike up a conversation. Nothing interesting was said as all my chit chat skills fled in fear the second we walked in the room.

Eventually the nurse called my husbands name and he stupidly asked me if I wanted to come or stay in the waiting area. There was no way I was staying out there in the infectious disease incubating party. I found out later he was trying to be funny but he seriously failed. Sometimes, he’s the only one who finds him funny. Jerk. When we were in the little room waiting for the doctor he joked about the woman that sat next to me. It wasn’t funny. This is how the conversation went.

Me: “I could have just caught the Ebola virus and you’re trying to be funny! I could die in 7 days all because of her cough!”

Husband: “Seven days? What is this, a scene from ‘The Ring’? And where the hell did you pull Ebola from? Of all the diseases you could pick.”

Me: “Whatever, smart ass. It’s a real disease and it kills people within days. I read a book about it in middle school and it was horrible!”

Husband: “I can’t believe you read about a deadly disease in middle school. How does it kill people so fast?”

Me: “It’s like the badass of the disease world. First, you get this headache that won’t go away then you start vomiting blood and hemorrhaging inside and out. Your insides become a freaking organ slushy and no one can cure you. Then you die!”

He stared at me with this shocked face. I think it was more because I knew about this disease then the actual things I told him.

Husband: “Damn. How the hell do you remember this from that long ago?”

Me: “Because it scared the shit out of me! I was all nervous for weeks every time I had a headache and it drove my Mom nuts. Every time I see or hear about a monkey the first thing I think about is Ebola.”

Husband: “What do monkeys have to do with it?”

Me: “The book was a scientist studying diseases and testing monkeys, and all the monkeys ended up with Ebola and it like killed a bunch of people. I don’t know. I don’t remember everything from it, just some stuff.”

The conversation pretty much ended there. He started looking through all the stuff in the room like a little kid and I disinfected my hands once or ten times. I need to buy more now. The doctor came in and gave him a clean bill of health and we were on our way. Hopefully I don’t come down with something in a week or so.

I really wish I could disinfect my entire body whenever I want. Like a bottle or can I can carry in my purse and just spray down whenever I end up in an incubation zone.

Is germaphobe not a real word? Spell check is telling me it’s wrong. It wants it to be “gramophone” instead and I have no clue what that is. How are you supposed to spell it anyway? Is it ‘germAphobe’ or ‘germOphobe’?

Spell check wants the second version to be “ergophobia”. I looked it up and it apparently means “an abnormal and persistent fear (or phobia) of work or functioning.” I know a few people who must have that phobia!

The first-time homebuyer class was trying to paralyze or infect me with the plague.

Actual Hazmat play set. Every child should have one.
So my husband and I had to go to a first-time homebuyer class seminar thing tonight which I don’t think is how you’re supposed to spend your Cinco de Mayo, so I may have to send an angry letter to whoever scheduled the class. Anyway, about 60 people were there and I swear at least three people were infected with something. Every few minutes at least one of them would hack up a lung and I could feel the swine flu infecting my body. As I type this, I think I’m incubating some type of swine flu/black plague hybrid disease that could kill me by tomorrow afternoon. That or I could just be sick with a cold by the end of the week, either way it’s totally screwed up. Two of the infected people were sitting only two to three chairs away from me so I wasn’t the required 150ft away from them to avoid their cough spreading germs. Gross. As the guy was telling all of us what we should know, I couldn’t help but wish I had a hazmat suit folded up nicely in my purse.

To make it even worse the class was 3 ½ hours long and they set out chairs from hell that made my hips and lower back scream out in pain only about 30 minutes into the lecture. By the time the whole thing was over I was convinced I was never going to be able to walk again. This is how our conversation went on the way home.

Me: I think I’m going to be paralyzed from the waist down because of this damn class.

Husband: Um, you just walked from the building to the car, I think you’re fine.

Me: Yeah but it’s not immediate onset. It’s going to hit when I’m not expecting it like in the middle of the night or when I’m on the toilet.

Husband: Ok, fine. We’ll get you some of those old lady bathroom handle bars. Then you can just power lift yourself off the toilet.

Me: I’ll be too weak from the black plague- swine- bird flu hybrid disease I caught from the lady next to you.

At this point he just laughed his ass off and said that we’re both just crazy. But I survived the class and even though I’ll be dead by Thursday we have our little certificate that says we did the class thing. I may have to attend our closing in a hazmat suit strapped into a wheelchair but hey, we’ll get a house (well, when we find one that our offer is accepted on – whenever the hell that happens).

PS: Did I mention the class was held in a room at our local police station? Seriously. In between the explanations about different programs for first time buyers we heard policemen make announcements requesting someone to go to the main desk.

A homeowner’s class in the same building as the criminals of your city. It’s the American dream.

It’s totally not safe in the middle of nowhere. You can get raped and chopped up like a stir-fry.

My husband and I drove by a house we saw online that’s for sale the other day. He liked that it had like an acre of land and some odd shape that’s a ranch but not at the same time. The closer we got to the house the less cell phone signal we had and I was all like, “Omygod! What if our car dies like right now and we can’t call anyone?! We’re going to die out here.” He kind of looked at me like I was suddenly growing a second head and was like, “We’re not going to die and the car’s fine. Besides, we’re on a street with plenty of houses that we could easily ask to use their phone and its daylight.” I literally almost lost my mind right there and then because how could I love someone so not up on how we could possibly die! So then I’m freaking out and was all like, “What?! We can’t just walk up to a house to use a phone! Have you not seen a single horror movie, like ever? That’s how you’d get chopped up into tiny little pieces and I’d be kept as their baby making slave. Oh, and people get raped in the daylight all the time. I saw it on Oprah.”

He laughed at me for my mini freak out but I think I’m totally justified. I mean, there’s like thick woods everywhere that crazy rapist and cannibals could be hiding out in their tree houses made out of human bones and skin. I mean, it happens all the time, right? Every house we drove by I was thinking about how someone could be breaking in right that second. He really doesn’t get that I think houses that are in the middle of no where are less safe then one in a normal neighborhood because there’s no one around and you could be dead for weeks before anyone smelled you.

So we pull up in front of the house and I opened my cell phone and it said the dreaded ‘searching’ screen. I was like, “Holy shit! The phone doesn’t even know it should be a t-mobile phone! We could be attacked like right now and no one would ever hear us scream!” He laughed at me was like, “Babe. There are plenty of houses on this street; if you screamed about 15 different people would hear you.” I think he’s totally nuts and I’m now more concerned then ever. I was then like, “Yeah but they would totally think it was a fox or fisher cat or something! They sound just like someone dying. So great, in case we weren’t dead already they would come out and shoot us thinking we were some wild screeching animal in heat. I feel SO much better now.” I gave him a huge eye roll with that and he just kept laughing and telling me I’m crazy. Maybe, but I’m not dead and hanging over someone’s fireplace mantel!

We left a few seconds after that and I couldn’t wait to see those magical little bars appear on my screen. When it had two bars I was like, “Look! We’re saved. Ok, new rule. No more houses outside the cell phone range.” He laughed but agreed. Besides, it would have been a hell of a commute since the highway was about 8 miles away from the house alone.

I tend to have a similar reaction when in the mountains.

I could be overreacting.