Years ago, Amy was “blessed” with an eye problem and as a result she could sit in a room full of the arachnids hanging over her head from the ceiling and never know her potential doom. But one day her home bound employer spotted a spider on the ceiling and, being an eight legged bug hating woman, she panicked. Amy’s employer became the eyes of the project; Amy the broom handle director. “Over to the left! Over to the left! No, too far! Yes, right there! Get it! Get it!” But as John can also attest to and Amy with wide eyes and projecting in the upper level of her vocal spectrum, and at full volume recalled, “Poke a spider with a stick” and the little fellow will skidder right down the handle! Like a car on a fast track!

The implications were these: the thing would surely bite her in the eye, or lodge in her hair and never to come out even after a hundred shampooings!  It would only dialogue upon a head shaving, but then would jump down her collar, biting her a hundred million times on its way to her socks!
The spider ran down Amy’s broom handle and when it got close enough to have easily stepped from the broom handle to Amy’s nose, even SHE COULD SEE IT! The entire house was filled with an opera of screaming women. The spider wandered off the broom handle, it having been flung to the floor, to hide some new place.
I’ve got to admit if a spider is moving AT me fast, I might peep a few loud sounds, but otherwise I like the little guys and have even immortalized one inside a glassed self- portrait. It crawled under the glass itself and died. I left it feeling it made some kind of social statement about me.nancymauerman.com