Sleeping With Spiders

I can watch a small blacksnake or garter snake in my yard and maintain my composure. The same is not true of spiders.

Sleeping with Spiders in My Dreams

I’ve never been a fan. To my husband’s frustration, if I somehow get rolled onto my back at night, there will undoubtedly be a large, black, hairy spider dangling over my face in my dreams. I’ve often woken him from sleep with a pathetic punch in the arm and a cry to “Kill it!”

Sleeping with Spiders on the Wall

Rich and I encountered a lovely old tarantula many years ago in our cabin in Haiti during a mission trip. The missionary kids told us that tarantulas especially liked our cabin. The beast was hanging on the wall just above my pillow.

Tarantulas are big, furry, and difficult to catch. It takes a lot of prodding to get one to move, and it’s nearly impossible to direct them where you want, like out the door. But when they do move, they are fast! Therefore, my husband may have broken a toe or two trying to get the spider into a place where I could sleep without nightmares.

Spiders Overhead

Recently, I attended a conference without my husband. I stayed in a charming old house with a lovely vintage room. Twelve-foot ceilings, a grand marble fireplace that was useless in July, dark wood, antique furnishings, and beautiful floral fabrics everywhere.

The room was a little stuffy, but the electric floor fan cooled it enough for sleep, even though it wasn’t as chilly as the temperature I’m used to for sleeping at night. I often joke that our home doesn’t have central air conditioning, but it is fully refrigerated. My husband prefers a house that is cold and dark. (It might be a good time to do some research on vampires…)

As I lay on my bed, preparing to turn out the light after finishing a few chapters in my historical novel, I looked up at the high ceilings and noticed something terrifying. A daddy long-legs spider hung directly above my pillow. How could I possibly sleep with a spider dangling overhead? As I scanned the room, I saw that the horrid creature wasn’t alone. Spiders clung to each of the four corners, and several were living in the light fixture above the bed.

I got out of bed and assessed the situation. There was no brave, if somewhat annoyed, husband to awaken. Should I try to kill the spiders on the ceiling with my flat-bottomed shoes and risk leaving a nasty stain on those elegant walls? How could I reach the ceiling? Even standing on the tall, cushioned chair wouldn’t put me within range.

I had no choice but to turn off the light and attempt to sleep.

Roommates

I lay awake for a very long time, occasionally turning the light back on to see if the spiders were launching a coordinated attack. They hadn’t moved. I slept on and off the first night—three more nights to go.

In the morning, I saw the spiders descend from the ceiling to the lower part of the wall and watch me try to act like a normal, non-paranoid person from there.

After breakfast in a room free of spiders, I spoke with the guest relations manager. She assured me the problem would be taken care of.

That evening, I realized fetching a ten-foot ladder to chase spiders was not a top priority for the maintenance crew. The spiders and I would have to co-exist for the time being.

The Good Spider?

I later learned that the intruders—actually, I was the intruder—the spiders that lived there permanently—were not daddy longlegs. This term is reserved for a non-spider creature that lives outdoors, often under stones or logs. Their one-section body distinguishes them from true spiders. Daddy longlegs have no fangs or venom, belong to the Opiliones order, and are usually called harvestmen. They do not build webs.

One conference attendee said this was the good kind of spider. I wasn’t sure what that meant when it was hanging from the ceiling above my pillow.

It’s more likely that the little creatures on my ceiling were cellar spiders, which prefer dark, damp places, mostly unused areas. Since I saw a few thin strands of spider web, I assume my high-ceiling inhabitants had lost their way back to the basement.

As much as I hate to take the life of any creature, I did thin the population when the spiders joined me at floor level in the mornings, though the bottom of my sandal was too splotchy to look at or wear on the carpeted floor. By the third evening, I felt safe from the threat of spiders and noticed the room seemed empty except for me.

Spiders in the Shower

However, before going to bed, I spotted a huge spider in the corner of the bathroom floor. The electric fan had dehumidified the bedroom, so the spiders seemed to seek out warmer, wetter areas. I was debating whether to kill it or let it live. I couldn’t imagine dropping my clothes and jumping into the shower with such a threat nearby.

The next day, after my morning walk, I entered the bathroom and saw the little creature clinging to the upper side of the toilet bowl. He had signed his own death warrant.

After killing two more spiders on the tub floor, I felt safe enough to take a shower. As I turned to rinse the last of the shampoo from my hair, I noticed a larger spider clinging to the ceiling above the back of the stall.

I Lived to Tell the Story...

Back home in my refrigerated bedroom, I surveyed the ceiling corners and knew that I could finally sleep in peace. I also realized there were very few spiders inside our house, except for the darker areas of the basement. I pledged to go a whole week without complaining about wearing my flannel shirts in July. Our refrigeration cooling system may be the best defence against my long-legged nemesis.