Forget carrying mase. I'm going to carry Raid.

You, reader, are afraid of something. Lurking in the shadows or around some random corner lies something that terrifies you.

Whether it's the blackness of night, the sharpness of blades, the roars of lions or the size of mushrooms (mycophobia).

My heart attack trigger? Spiders. I've a crippling case of arachnophobia. And tonight, it almost cost me a warm place to sleep.

I approached my apartment door at around ten thirty PM. I was about to raise my arm to unlock the door when I saw a grey spider inches from the lock.

I froze. Literally. I could not move. All I could do was stare at that spider. The evil arachnid who was keeping me from my home.

"Veronica," I told myself," you are a grown-ass woman. That is a spider. He's the size of your pinky nail. You've literally got like 140 pounds on him. Just smash him with your shoe."

But I couldn't listen to myself. Because I might have the size advantage, but that little creep had the appendage advantage. And the ocular advantage. And the web-spinning advantage.

"Okay, you," I said to myself. "Just back up a bit."

So I took a step back. Then another. I looked down the hallway to my left. Then to my right. I wished for someone to walk by so I could ask him/her to knock the spider off for me. Or lie and say my lock was being fidgety.

"My lock is being fidgety. Could you give it a try?" Then the kind stranger would let me into my apartment. I wouldn't have to risk touching the spider, and I could go to sleep.

Alas, the hallways were souless except for me. And that spider.

Side note: I think spiders are souless, evil things from planet Scary As Fuck.

Since waiting wasn't working, my next option was to telepathically plead with the spider. "Hey, you, spider. Could you please just, I don't know. Move about 20 inches to the right? That'd be great."

He didn't budge.

I tried being a little more forceful. I thought, "Move your hairy ass over to the right!"

He actually creeped closer to the door handle. The jerk!

So I started pleading aloud. "Please, Mr. Spider. Could you move to the right so I can get into my apartment."

Nothing. I probably screwed up by calling it Mr. It was probably a Ms. Spider.

Next, I blew at the spider. It moved! I blew again. He/she was about six inches away from the lock and handle. Oh, happy day! Except I remembered that some spiders can jump. And if I reached for the door, this spider might jump on me. Then I'd faint and die.

That's what the fear is all about. The potential of touching those horrid things. It makes me shudder now just thinking about it. I'd rather be close to drowning. Seriously. If someone offered me a thousand dollars to just touch a spider with my big toe, I would not be able to do it. I would probably try and then have an asthma attack from thinking about it. And then my heart would do that weird hurting thing it does when I'm really stressed. And then I'd die of fear.

By this time, I think about ten minutes had gone by.

So now I'm panicking a little at my front door. I walk away and pace a bit. Should I call someone? Should I knock on a neighbor's door? I can hear a TV in the apartment across from me. Hell, they weren't watching TV but looking through the peep hole and snickering themselves silly as a woman transformed into a little girl infront of their very eyes.

I decided that I'd keep blowing at the spider. Perhaps I could get him far enough away that I could at least unlock the door. Plus, I could do that from a safe distance.

A minute or so later, I was wheezing and the spider was a further away. But I got another one of those damning thoughts. It, the bug from Hell, was still on the door. The door opens inward. That spider could jump off the door into my apartment. Then I'd have to abandon all of my worldly possesions and move.

I paced again. I tried to convince myself that the spider wasn't going to touch me. That he wasn't on my door because he was plotting to kill me. That he just was cruising around the apartment complex and was taking a rest on my door. He could care less about me and my tasty tasty flesh.

I didn't really believe myself. So I spent the night in my car. And I typed this blog on my cell phone.

Okay, not really. But that makes for a better ending, doesn't it? I eventually got the spider a little further away, then I dashed inside as quickly as I could and shut the door as fast as I could. Then I ran to the shower and scrubbed myself like I'd just fallen in feces.

And now, everything is okay. Except now I'm afraid to leave my aparment in the morning. I just know that spider is building a web over my door. He's clogging the gears and cogs and bits in my door lock so I can't escape tomorrow. Then he and his spider buddies will continuously poke me with their stabby, pointy spider feet.

Oh god. I'm going to go find some prozac or something now.


NEXT DAY UPDATE: That eight-legged bastard was waiting for me in the morning. On the door! Needless to say, I ran to my car this morning. Who knows if I locked my front door or not. I'm not even worried. Super Arachnid will keep the burglars away.