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Not the heat. While icky and uncomfortable, the heat can be dealt with.
No, the reason late summer is bad is because late summer is when all the spiders have grown up and are seeking mates. The Husband apparently has started seeing (and throwing out) more spiders recently.
Last night, I got up in the middle of the night to go use the bathroom. Flush, wash hands, happen to glance over my shoulder as I reach to turn off the light. There on the wall next to the toilet was a HUGE spider. I run into the bedroom, gibber at The Husband, and he goes to trap it and fling it outside. He tells me that it was indeed a big spider, but not as big as one he threw out the other day.
It took a very long time for the gooseflesh to go away and for me to fall back to sleep. No surprise, I had nightmares about the eight-legged things.
I know spiders are good, helpful creatures. I know they get rid of bad bugs. I know they aren't really lurking in corners, waiting to jump out at me. None of this makes a damn bit of difference to my automatic, instinctive reaction of screaming and running away. Miss Alexia suggested getting me a cuddly plush toy spider to help me overcome my phobia; I explained to her that not only would that not help, but possibly freak me out even more.
I keep hoping that the spiders will just understand that they shouldn't ever show themselves to me, but they don't seem to be getting the message.
No, the reason late summer is bad is because late summer is when all the spiders have grown up and are seeking mates. The Husband apparently has started seeing (and throwing out) more spiders recently.
Last night, I got up in the middle of the night to go use the bathroom. Flush, wash hands, happen to glance over my shoulder as I reach to turn off the light. There on the wall next to the toilet was a HUGE spider. I run into the bedroom, gibber at The Husband, and he goes to trap it and fling it outside. He tells me that it was indeed a big spider, but not as big as one he threw out the other day.
It took a very long time for the gooseflesh to go away and for me to fall back to sleep. No surprise, I had nightmares about the eight-legged things.
I know spiders are good, helpful creatures. I know they get rid of bad bugs. I know they aren't really lurking in corners, waiting to jump out at me. None of this makes a damn bit of difference to my automatic, instinctive reaction of screaming and running away. Miss Alexia suggested getting me a cuddly plush toy spider to help me overcome my phobia; I explained to her that not only would that not help, but possibly freak me out even more.
I keep hoping that the spiders will just understand that they shouldn't ever show themselves to me, but they don't seem to be getting the message.