Pervy Spider

This morning, like every other morning, I sighed in the general direction of the alarm clock, grumpily rubbed my eyes, walked into the bathroom, disrobed and stumbled into the warm shower.

I had just begun to shampoo my hair when I noticed I wasn't alone.

Oh my God, spider!!!

Do I kill it?

It is pretty small, so maybe it's a baby.

I don't want to kill a baby.

My guilt riddled anthropomorphism made me feel attached to this "baby" spider and I decided I didn't have it in me to kill it.

So I left it alone. And continued my usual bathing ritual. Rinsed my hair. Soaped up all the nooks and crannies and rinsed them out.

I tried to forget it was there, but it was clearly watching me. Glaring. I glared at the spider, it glared back. We exchanged awkward, knowing glances.

And then I realized that I was naked. And it was glaring at me, naked.

I felt oddly self- conscious. Standing there, bare before the spider. It must have thought I was some sort of Lena Dunham-esque exhibitionist, baring my copious flesh every time I entered its shower habitat.

So there I stood, naked, anxiously glaring at a spider.

Was it judging me?

Had it seen my neighbors nude as well?

Did it rank us?

Baby or not, it had seen me nude and it had to go.

I turned off the water, dried myself off and stepped out. I grabbed a piece of toilet paper and turned around to seal the spider's fate.... But it was gone.


He just stayed to watch me shower.

And I felt violated. And really, really dirty.

But I can't shower again, because you know... the pervy spider....




Clearly, I can never shower again.