I have an irrational fear of spiders. Not to the point of arachnophobia, but close.
The other day as I was grabbing a lump of paper from a bag a spider no bigger than a nickle scurried across one of the sheets. I (gracefully) threw the papers across the floor
and would not go near them until enough time should have passed and I started poking around at everything to try and find it. It could not be found (I still get goosebumps just thinking about it). There is one place I have not dared to look. A wooden box which stores the rest of my paper just happened to be open when the spider attacked me. It shouldn't really be in there. Nontheless, I have not opened the box for three weeks. I keep looking at it. I tell myself. "Caitlin, it is not in there. Even if it is (for a horrific reason) it would be dead now. Right? Right."
Why am I telling you this ridiculous story? I desperately need some of the paper that is hiding in there (the paper is probably having tea parties with its new found friend, the spider).I am almost positive it is ready to pounce on me the moment I open the lid. I think my need for my paper will override my fear this evening. So, If I die (from either a spider bite or fear) you will know what happened and hopefully I will have died in the name of being crafty and creative.