Well I have to talk about my various travels throughout my three week lon gspring break, but there's something even more important I have to get to first.
There was an incident.
A horribble, dreadful, almost life ending incident.
So there I was in bed, at about one o'clock in the morning just going through my old photos on my laptop. I'm propped up, looking and smiling and remembering, and then- I see it, out of the corner of my eye.
The huge, nasty, evil spider like 3 inches from my FACE! You can probably guess my reaction. I nearly had a heart attack, screamed, jumped up, and ran. The problem was the spider ran too. I couldn't see it and I knew it was in my bed, and I really didn't want to share my bed. So I stand there staring at my bed, trying to think of something to for about ten minutes.
Finally I got up the courage, creeped over to my bed, and moved the comforter ever so slightly. FLASH the little beast of Satan's runs, using all 8 creepy legs to speed some where else on my bed. Unfortunately I didn't see where because insinctively I screamed and ran- again, so I didn't see where it went. Right back to where I started.
Finally I had an epiphany and started throwing books on my bed to scare the spider and get him to abandon my bed, and it worked! The thing ran right off my bed. The only problem was I knew it was still in my room, but I was too afraid to look for it. Believe it or not I got to sleep anyway except everytime I felt a tickle or something I freaked out and thrashed around in my bed until I realized it was a false alarm.
I told the story to much laughter at the breakfast table that morning (and have been telling it to everyone I know since then, it always get a laugh). My host brother told me that he knew a girl who went to school with him that couldn't sit near the spider tank in biology class because she was so afraid. The bio teacher told her she should draw a spider on her hand, give it a name, and talk to it every day and that after she did that she would slowly become less afraid.
At first I thought that was silly.
Then I saw another spider and had to call someone in to kill it for me. I don't want to be a baby and would like to be able to kill my own spiders, so everyone I don't have a picture, but just imiganine a little hand drawn spider named Jimmy on my hand.
We've had a pretty good relationship up until now, but I sometimes forget I'm supposed to talk to him, which is very rude, and makes my therapy process very, very slow.
Maybe someday I'll even be brave enough to own a pet tarantula... well I can hope anyways.