Firstly, legs. They have 8. Who the hell needs 8 legs? I get by on two just fine. Who do they think they are? With all their crouching. Under tables. Shower drains. In clothes. And every fucking dark corner you can imagine.
Secondly, eyes. They, again, have 8. (Mostly, some species do have less.) And again, I have only two and get along just fine. But noooo, they stare at you. With all 8 eyes. Calculating ways to freak you out.
"Did I look to the right or the left, human? You don't know do you? Why is that? OH, because I have 8 fucking eyes and you can't tell. Muwhahahahaha!"And don't get me started on tarantulas - where you can actually see their eyes looking at you. Following you. Imagining delicious ways to lure you into a trap of hundreds of spiders just like him aching to eat your flesh on the fancy silver platter they've somehow acquired. With 4 tiny forks for the right legs and 4 tiny knives on the left legs, and a bib that says "Humans: The Only White Meat". And yes, that is something I've actually imagined prior to the writing of this.
Do I scream like a banshee when I see one? No.
Do I find the longest route available around the spider to get to my destination? Yes.
Do I find a large cup and trap a spider underneath it when I find one in my house because I can't stand actually killing one for fear that its cousin is watching and will put a hit out on me in my sleep? You bet your ass I do. (Not to mention the crunching sound. GAG.)
This is something I've lived with quietly for years. But then I had Lillie. And I can't do it anymore. Because every time I lay her down in her crib I have to inspect it for a nest of spiders. And every time she wakes up crying do I think "Hey, she's hungry." or "Hey, she's pooped herself"?
Uh, NO. I imagine a spider slapping her in her face with the two foremost legs saying
"This is for my kind you tiny human! This is for the time your mom trapped my uncle underneath that glass in the kitchen for a FULL DAY before he was put out of his misery! THIS IS SPARTA! <insert full frontal kick to Lillie's forehead from spider>"Okay, the sparta thing is going a little far - but seriously this is what my imagination does to me.
I always thought I'd be the sane mother, the one who was like "Oh, let her eat grass. She'll learn." And I may be. But when it comes to spiders, I'm completely illogical. Unreasonable. Unstable.
But come to think of it, what is sanity when it comes to being a parent?
Maybe I'm not so unstable after all. Or maybe that's just what the spiders want me to think.