He’s been there since about the middle of October.

When I first noticed him, the inclination was to squash, but the little guy could really run when he needed to so I decided to form a truce. It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t too interested in humans, so as long as he stayed where he was, I’d leave him. It was getting cold outside and I felt bad about sending him out to die. So that was that. Hubby went after him a few more times but eventually gave up. He became a rent-paying household member, catching the gnats that flew down into his dark little corner.

I began talking to him, saying *hi,* things like that. He never ran when it was just us. He trusted me.

He would even wave back a time or two.

This morning I went to take a shower to get at the dead skin attacking my feet, and a bottle of body wash fell over the side of the tub into his web. I don’t know what he was doing down there, he’d been spending a lot of time close to the ground lately. But I hate myself. I hate that I took a shower this morning, I hate that I didn’t just stay in bed with my itchy feet. I hate that I got attached to a stupid spider and now I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe.

Most people make a throwaway for embarrassing shit like this but I’m gonna own it. That little spider taught me a powerful lesson about fear and friendship and I’ll never forget it.


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