along came a spider...

While surfing through the Canadians roll at BlogHer tonight, I came across a meme called Checklist—a collection of 150 possible life experiences with the instruction, "just bold the things you have accomplished in your life." Seemed like an interesting way to put off washing the dishes, so I began reading, mentally building my life list.

1. Bought everyone in the bar a drink (no)
2. Swam with wild dolphins (no)
3. Climbed a mountain (not even a small one)
4. Took a Ferrari for a test drive (no)
5. Went inside the Great Pyramid (no)

The dishes were starting to look a whole lot more appealing!

And then, along came ... 6. Held a tarantula.

Now, strictly speaking, my actual hand didn't actually touch the actual tarantula, but I think (and all you arachnophobes out there will agree, I'm sure) that standing next to a tarantula in my own living room should definitely count. Why, only a couple of inches of air and a dangerously thin and brittle-looking piece of glass separated me from the great, hairy, eight-leggedy beastie.

I vaguely remember my son (the culprit) saying something like, "Isn't he great?" and "I told Gilbert we could keep him here."

And I remember feeling suddenly cold. Probably because every drop of blood in my extremities had gone whooshing away into hiding. The rest of me desperately wanted to follow, and would have, but for the need to be sure the thing didn't escape its glass prison.

Minutes passed.

I stared, unblinking.

The thing lifted one hairy leg and stared back, eyepods all a-quiver!

"Wanna touch it, Mom?"

I honestly don't remember many details beyond that point. Needless to say, I did not want to touch it. Both son and tarantula were ushered quickly out of the house.

Son returned.

Tarantula did not. (As far as I know...)

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