I'm afraid of spiders. Like crazy, jump up and down and squeal afraid of spiders. This has been an ongoing drama in my household since I was a child because my dad likes spiders.
I understand that spiders are beneficial. They eat bugs, which is a very good thing. I don't have a problem with this, as long as it's not occurring in my house. And, unlike my bug phobia, my spider phobia does have some rational thinking behind it. Some spiders have very nasty bites. But that never stopped my father from making fun of me for my little spider problem.
He always tried to get me to ignore spiders, especially if we were camping and they came into our tent. They don't harm anyone, so just leave them be. In fact, he wouldn't even zipper our tent to keep the damn things out because he didn't want the zipper to break. (If we don't use it, who cares if it breaks! Really, isn't that obvious?) I would cry and sometimes scream until all offending spiders were removed from my presence.
Please note that I said REMOVED. There was no spider squishing with my dad around. It either stayed where it was, or it was removed by my dad or my brother. They would pick the spider up and carry it outside. It's crazy.
Several years ago, my dad was bitten by a brown recluse spider. It did a decent amount of localized damage in the area surrounding the bite. It's a good thing he's in great shape. One of his buddies was bitten around the same time and ended up in the hospital because of it. They weren't sure if they could save the guy's leg.
When my dad sprayed his shed to kill all of the spiders I thought that maybe he had finally learned his lesson. Spiders good. Spiders around humans, not so much.
Then, I received this picture in an email from my dad. He was in Canada with the Boy Scouts last week and look at what he caught.