Being girly

I don’t have a lot of patience for female hysterics, possibly because I grew up in a house in which there was no cavalry, so screaming and carrying on hoping someone else would come to the rescue and deal with a problem was a pointless endeavour. You might as well get a hold of yourself and deal with it.

That said, I do not like spiders.

I was just on my way out to get a few things from the supermarket at lunch, going to stop off at the ladies’ ablutions down the hall en route, when I spied a great big huntsmen spider on the wall right above the door on the way in. I was alright going in, because I could see it and keep an eye on it, so I went in a did my business. But then I had to come out. I stood inside the toilets holding the door handle in a moment of nervousness, knowing the spider was right above the door on the other side, hoping like mad it wasn’t going to drop on me as I exited and land in my hair or fall down my shirt, in which case female hysterics just might have got the better of me.

So, I pulled the door open, paused, then took a sort of running leap out into the hall, aiming to lower the probability of it landing on me, where thankfully no one was watching.

Then, on my way out the front of our building the maintenance fellow just happened to be chatting to the chap at the security desk, so I approached and rather sheepishly told them there was a big spider outside the ladies’ toilets upstairs. I felt very girly, going to the front desk to report a spider. But I also figured I was doing my part for all the other women who’d have to resist hysterics at the sight of it and possibly find themselves trapped in the bathroom. And we all know men like a good reason to be heroic, so I was letting them have one.

On my way back I noticed there’s a big smear on the wall where the spider once was. Arrghh.