My first guest post

My sister, Shananigans, shared this lovely little narrative she wrote for class with me and I asked to post it because it's SO FUNNY.  The assignment was to write about the types of masks we wear. 

Who knew she was such a good writer? Plus, she mentions me at the end. This makes me feel special.
With out further ado, I introduce "Mask One: The Spider Destroyer"


  
    My husband and I currently reside in the small basement apartment of an old house in Sandy. Within, it is immaculate. Without, there are many bushes and weeds that grow along the antique brick, adding to the old-time feel of the place. While charming, the outward conditions of the dwelling provide ideal living conditions for many of God's less desirable creatures, and, despite the regularly scheduled spraying of our home with industrial-strength pesticides, inside and out, arachnids of varying sizes occasionally pass through the carefully distributed chemical barrier unscathed. As a result, the basement often becomes home to more than just we two humans who pay the rent. When my husband is home, he gallantly obliterates these unwelcome guests with the swift flip of his sandal. Sometimes, however, my husband is not home, and I, his borderline-phobic wife, am left alone to deal with the unpleasant surprise (and it is always, unfortunately, a surprise). This leaves me very little choice but to wear the mask of the spider destroyer, fueled by a fierce sense of self-preservation.


    After gasping or screaming at the beast and catching my breath, I make a conscious decision to be incredibly brave and put on my mask. I am, after all, a capable woman who knows how to use a shoe. I stare at the spider intensely, hoping to convey that I mean business and that he best not move from the place in which he was discovered. A quick and painless death is silently promised him if he will comply, with the assurance that fear and agony (on both of our parts) will ensue should I be forced to chase him around AT ALL. If the perpetrator is relatively small, I run to the closet and snatch up a flip-flop (a fabulous weapon, as it is thin and can fit into the corner where the flooring meets the baseboard). If he is large, I retrieve from the storage room the can of Raid that my husband so lovingly deposited in my stocking last Christmas. Sufficiently armed, I run back to the site of encounter and remind myself again that I will not be defeated by such a small enemy, nor will I allow him, under any circumstances, to live and reproduce. I square my shoulders, breathe deeply, and strike!

   Oh my heck I am so brave!!! I'm so proud of myself!

    The spider destroyer immediately rips off her mask, shudders dramatically, and yells something along the lines of “blah!”. I've nothing left to prove. The threat is diminished, and I am free to assume my real identity as the girl who seriously freaking hates those things and never ever wants to be near enough to touch one again ever. The victim (the spider, I mean) is left in a knot where he was slain for my always-brave husband to throw away upon his return. I've been brave enough for the time being, and I now want only to focus on performing yoga breaths in an effort to return to my resting heart rate.


    There are a few other circumstances under which I am willing to don this mask. These have to do with the protection of those that I love, and who find themselves helpless. For example, the time when I spread a blanket upon my husband's nearly-sleeping figure, and the spider who had concealed himself within landed perfectly on the lump that was my husband's left thigh. Or when I visited my sister, who is even more terrified of the 8-legged opponent than I, and “the jumpy kind” was discovered on her living room wall. Were I unable to assume the role of exterminator in these situations, my husband would have had to disrupt the spider perched on his leg, leading to who knows what kind of hunt (in our bedroom, no less), and my sister very well may have passed out, leaving her 2-year old daughter unprotected, and the cat highly confused.
So this was Mask One, I think there will be two.  Hopefully she will share the second with me.

PS I have never passed out because of a spider, thank you very much.  I only, occasionally, go into hysterics.