The Scribble Pad
The mental meanderings of a slightly loose screw.
Tuesday May 6 - Grieving for a spider
As you can imagine, my garden has gone to pot over the past few weeks, so I decided to go get it back to rights again. Weeding, tilling, re-drawing my rows it the dirt. You know.
I unearthed a little brown spider. Not one of the big beastly ones that run around my house and impair my cardiac health, with footfalls as loud as stormtroopers; this one was literally a common household or garden spider.
And even though my mind was screeching for me to stop, I did what my arachnophobic instincts told me to do. I whacked it with my spade like a mafia don. It survived the whacking...for as long as it took me to go after him and finish him off.
And now I feel like a skunk. Not only did I wipe out a little creature that wasn't doing me the slightest bit of harm, but I also shot myself in the foot, agriculturally speaking. I, who practically live on my pesticide-free, environment-friendly high horse, and who have been tearing out my luxuriant (and alarmingly graying) hair over the influx of vegetable-chomping beasticules in my garden. I whacked the biggest natural enemy of said beasticules into a green-blooded pulp. Great. Who's gonna kill my bugs now?
Idjit!
