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Ok, so here's the story.
I was finishing my second year of grad school. I was living in an apartment I didn't like very much, but I'd found a beautiful new place and signed a lease. I was allowed to move in the next day, but I had the key early and, in my excitement, I'd moved most of my stuff over ahead of myself. I still had a cup for water, stuff for brushing my teeth and getting a shower, one change of clothes, that was about it. I know, really smart. I'm sitting in this empty apartment and staring at the walls until my brain wants to crawl out of my ears.
So I go sit on the front step, at least I can look out and see what's happening in my neighborhood.
There was a pickup truck parked on the street in front of my building, with the hood popped, and two guys wrenching on it.
I went to see if I could watch and hang out. They said sure, so I chatted with them until they finished working on the pickup.
One of the guys said he lived right across the street, and if I wanted to hang out some more I could come over. Not wanting to go back to staring at my walls, I said ok. (I know, this sounds *really* smart, but anyway, that's what I did.)
He lived in the top floor of a three-story house that had been converted into apartments. We walked up the steps and he showed me around the place. He had two pets. A ferret, which had the run of the place, and a tarantula, which lived in an aquarium. On the floor. At the foot of his bed. And his bed was just a mattress on the floor. So this thing was like, touching his mattress. There was a piece of plastic or something covering the aquarium, but still. Tarantula.
And this was a hideously ugly tarantula. I am afraid of spiders in a way that I can only describe as primal. I see one and every cell in my body wants to either run away or die or both or something, just get me as far away as possible and never come back. At the same time, I can intellectually acknowledge that tarantulas can be really beautiful. The elegant fury brown bodies with the two sections and the arched legs. But this thing had none of that. It was just ugly. Big fat body, one barrel-shaped section, blue and black, and these stubby legs. Just nasty looking. I really really didn't want to be there.
But the guy was all excited to show me the spider. I know, scare the girl from across the street. He wanted me to see it move. I'm like "no, really, that's ok. I'm fine really. I'm sure it moves just great, I really don't need to see..."
But he's set on this idea. So he's on his bed, on all fours, using one hand to prop up the aquarium lid and using the other hand to prod this poor beast of a spider, with a stick. I'm trying not to pass out.
Then, while he's really focused on the tarantula (as am I), his pet ferret climbs up behind him onto the bed, and starts to nibble on the back of his ankle.
I. Have. Never. Seen. Someone. Jump. So. Hard.
Nearly hurt myself laughing.
And got home safe.
So that's it, my spider and ferret story.
I was finishing my second year of grad school. I was living in an apartment I didn't like very much, but I'd found a beautiful new place and signed a lease. I was allowed to move in the next day, but I had the key early and, in my excitement, I'd moved most of my stuff over ahead of myself. I still had a cup for water, stuff for brushing my teeth and getting a shower, one change of clothes, that was about it. I know, really smart. I'm sitting in this empty apartment and staring at the walls until my brain wants to crawl out of my ears.
So I go sit on the front step, at least I can look out and see what's happening in my neighborhood.
There was a pickup truck parked on the street in front of my building, with the hood popped, and two guys wrenching on it.
I went to see if I could watch and hang out. They said sure, so I chatted with them until they finished working on the pickup.
One of the guys said he lived right across the street, and if I wanted to hang out some more I could come over. Not wanting to go back to staring at my walls, I said ok. (I know, this sounds *really* smart, but anyway, that's what I did.)
He lived in the top floor of a three-story house that had been converted into apartments. We walked up the steps and he showed me around the place. He had two pets. A ferret, which had the run of the place, and a tarantula, which lived in an aquarium. On the floor. At the foot of his bed. And his bed was just a mattress on the floor. So this thing was like, touching his mattress. There was a piece of plastic or something covering the aquarium, but still. Tarantula.
And this was a hideously ugly tarantula. I am afraid of spiders in a way that I can only describe as primal. I see one and every cell in my body wants to either run away or die or both or something, just get me as far away as possible and never come back. At the same time, I can intellectually acknowledge that tarantulas can be really beautiful. The elegant fury brown bodies with the two sections and the arched legs. But this thing had none of that. It was just ugly. Big fat body, one barrel-shaped section, blue and black, and these stubby legs. Just nasty looking. I really really didn't want to be there.
But the guy was all excited to show me the spider. I know, scare the girl from across the street. He wanted me to see it move. I'm like "no, really, that's ok. I'm fine really. I'm sure it moves just great, I really don't need to see..."
But he's set on this idea. So he's on his bed, on all fours, using one hand to prop up the aquarium lid and using the other hand to prod this poor beast of a spider, with a stick. I'm trying not to pass out.
Then, while he's really focused on the tarantula (as am I), his pet ferret climbs up behind him onto the bed, and starts to nibble on the back of his ankle.
I. Have. Never. Seen. Someone. Jump. So. Hard.
Nearly hurt myself laughing.
And got home safe.
So that's it, my spider and ferret story.
.