Just to mix things up, and because Ann randomly thought of two posts she wanted to write involving spiders, the two of us decided to declare this week Spider Week on the blog. So it felt pretty fitting when I discovered a spider in my bedroom the other day. I noticed him sitting there, perched on his tiny web in the corner of my room, and I thought to myself, “Boy, I should really murder the sweet sunshine outta that little guy.” I started to move towards the spider, but then I was stopped by a thought: “Shouldn’t I leave him alone? I mean, it’s Spider Week. Wouldn’t it be wrong to kill a spider during Spider Week?”
The correct answer would have been, “No, of course not,” because “Spider Week” isn’t a thing. There is no religion that recognizes “Spider Week” as a high holiday. And yet, for some reason, that didn’t occur to me. It felt wrong to kill him, so I decided to spared his life.
I woke up with two bites. Go to hell, Spider Week. Every spider should die in a fire.