April 5, 2009:

Spider season is upon us

The only down side to living in this neighborhood is that every year from late July to early October a huge community of spiders rises up among us and costs us billions of dollars in loss of property and human life. The second half of that sentence is not true. But spider season does cost me part of my sanity every year, while at the same time chipping away at my neighbors' ability to make eye contact. It is the neighbors, not the spiders, who have to pretend like nothing's wrong when they hear me scream and then see me running and convulsing up the sidewalk from the car to the house. Or in the other direction. It doesn't really matter--the spiders don't care whether you're coming or going, they are always ready and willing to make your acquaintance.

Spider season isn't just an increase in the quantity of spiders, it's a change in the quality of spiders. There is a certain type that only comes around this time of year. They are reddish brown with golden stripes and visible hairs. They can be as small as a quarter or bigger than a silver dollar. Their ace in the hole is that they almost never come inside the house. But they are always building webs across the walkway from the roof to the bushes or from the garage awning to the car. Going out or coming home at night during the summer is a terrifying, creepy, and ultimately rewarding experience.

By the end of spider season, the spiders have lost all shock value and start to seem like fun-loving, prankster-ish pets. Every time you lift the trashcan lid, there one of them is. Going to open the car door? Not so fast, there's a spider on the handle. Backyard, front yard, garage, it doesn't matter--they are everywhere, all the time, and after weeks of screaming and clutching my chest Fred Sanford-style, it gets to be re-goddamned-diculous.

By October, the spiders and their webs are much fewer and farther between and I actually start to feel a little melancholy about it. There's always one last spider who hangs around for a week or two after the rest have all cleared out. He is the one I get the most attached to, and when he shrivels up and blows away the cats and Buddy and I hold a Wiccan funeral service and spend the next few weeks in grief counseling. That's not true, but I do kind of miss the practical jokery of those goddamned spiders. Until the start of the following season, when they scare the hell out of me yet again.

Well, that's enough cuss words for now. Good night.

Martha

Added April 5, 2009

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