Spiders are not our friends

This article is written to help with man’s endless pursuit to understand woman.

Several days ago, during the blazing hot sizzle of mid-summer, Mark and I were in Spokane shopping at Costco. Costco was unusually busy that day.

We parked in the back forty and hiked the blistering blacktop, aware that the soothing cool of the air-conditioned store awaited us just ahead.

There we bravely maneuvered through aisles filled with crazed shoppers who deftly operated their weapon-carts in a frenzy of shopping mania. At least that was Mark’s take on it. To me, it was just the typical shopping experience at Costco.

After pushing Mark to the very limits of tolerance, I led him exhausted and testy to checkout. Every open stand had lines of shoppers with piled-high carts.

As we were progressing forward in an orderly fashion, I became aware of a man behind us carrying one item.

Who goes to Costco for one item?

As I always do under these circumstances, I invited him to move into the place ahead of me. How could I be so cruel as to do otherwise?

He was most appreciative and the three of us engaged in a conversation regarding (what else?) the heat.

He said he beats the heat by staying in the basement, day and night, emerging only at mealtime. He has fully furnished bedrooms and family room complete with a stocked ‘fridge available to him there.

But his wife opts to stay in the main part of the house, which has window A/C units and therefore not nearly as cool during heat wave.

Mark knowingly nodded his head, engaged in a couple of macho guffaws, and stated, “Yup. Mine does the same even though it’s ten degrees cooler downstairs.”

The men had bonded.

They continued discussing the brilliance of their behavior until I finally could take it no longer and blurted out, “I sleep upstairs because of the spiders downstairs.”

Mark looked embarrassed and the other man looked sheepish as he said, “That’s the same reason my wife gives. I only see a couple or three spiders a day down there. Don’t know what the big deal is.”

Had they been in closer proximity to one another, I expect they would have high-fived or body bumped in total accord.

Well allow me to enlighten all you men who don’t get it: women don’t like spiders.

Oh, there are a few, usually biology teachers, who find them fascinating.

But most of us are most uncomfortable thinking that they may be lurking about, sneakily watching for victims, hiding in corners and crevices, pretending to be afraid.

We know they are important to nature, but they don’t belong scurrying about in our homes.

I asked Mark if the reason he and that man had skirted the issue was because it embarrassed them to admit to their wives’ fear (let’s face it gals, that’s the word) of poisonous insects that feast on us while we innocently sleep.

He admitted that to be true.

I no longer scream for Mark when I see a spider. I’ve matured.

But I do mash them with a shoe or hammer, or whatever else is close, and in fact have seen them so large that shooting them seemed the most reasonable solution (I haven’t resorted to that. Yet.)

I researched arachnophobia and discovered that it is one of the most common phobias.

Some psychiatrists believe that ancient man and woman feared the huge, extraordinarily venomous spiders that lurked about in ancient times in search of a human to suck dry, and the fear is built into our DNA as a survival tool to ensure continuation of the species.

Like ancient man had to de-spider the cave with his spear before turning in for the night.

Hogwash.

We don’t like them for the same reason we don’t like mosquitoes, horse flies, earwigs, and anything else that crawls or flies and can cause us discomfort through bites. We don’t want to be their Happy Hour. And spiders are everywhere, in great numbers.

Spiders hate peppermint.

I read that two tablespoons peppermint oil in a quarter cup of water can be sprayed around doorways and windows and on walls, and will repel spiders (as well as mice, if that’s an issue for you). It won’t discolor your woodwork either.

I plan to buy a vat of it. Makes sense, doesn’t it, that a blood sucking killer would hate something as wholesome as peppermint.

So no more macho guffawing in public when discussing such things, guys.

We women look to our big protective men for many reasons, killing spiders being just one.

Removing snakes from the garden is another. And then there are blood-sucking bats.

Seen The Birds lately? Or Jaws?

Let’s face it, you guys love that we need you to save us from life’s horrors, and we are mighty glad to have you to protect little ol’ us.