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Alex finds unlikely intimacy with creepy crawlies, a thread
I was a teenager jogging in my neighborhood. After I got tired, I sat on the sidewalk because I didn’t want to go inside yet.
A little toad hopped out of the grass and into my lap. He perched on my leg for a while, then went back to hunting the big, pale beetles hovering nearby.
A little toad hopped out of the grass and into my lap. He perched on my leg for a while, then went back to hunting the big, pale beetles hovering nearby.
I was still a teenager, but at college. Walking back to my dorm from yet another solo dining hall experience, a lovebug gently skimmed my face on its way to wherever it was flying.
It was the first time I’d been touched in a while, and I was grateful.
It was the first time I’d been touched in a while, and I was grateful.
I was not a teenager anymore, but still in college. Took an entomology class that included field trips.
The professor encouraged us to gently hold a beautiful spider that was perched on a branch. I was the only one who tried. It was big, spindly, each leg joint furry.
The professor encouraged us to gently hold a beautiful spider that was perched on a branch. I was the only one who tried. It was big, spindly, each leg joint furry.
It was electric and exciting, holding my hand under the spider and feeling it test my palm with its legs.
Then the wind blew, knocking the spider against my hand repeatedly.
The whole class screamed, so I slowly removed my hand. The spider didn’t bite. It knew I was ok.
Then the wind blew, knocking the spider against my hand repeatedly.
The whole class screamed, so I slowly removed my hand. The spider didn’t bite. It knew I was ok.
I had graduated, gotten married, and decided to try my hand at beekeeping.
In the evening I’d put on my veil and sit next to my hive, watching the bees return home in their preoccupied, determined manner. Sometimes a pissy little bee would fuss me all the way back to the garage.
In the evening I’d put on my veil and sit next to my hive, watching the bees return home in their preoccupied, determined manner. Sometimes a pissy little bee would fuss me all the way back to the garage.
Current day. I feel lonely if I don’t have a resident bathroom spider. I like seeing them figure out their hunting spots.
Will this spider claim the windowsill, the space above the drier, or the least steamy corner of the shower? Or if it’s brave, maybe even the towel rack?
Will this spider claim the windowsill, the space above the drier, or the least steamy corner of the shower? Or if it’s brave, maybe even the towel rack?
I was a kid, maybe ten years old. I’d gone to the farm with dad & promptly tore a fingernail pretty badly while climbing on the burn piles in the new field.
I sulked in the shade, but discovered a shiny black beetle that screamed if I touched it with a twig.
I sulked in the shade, but discovered a shiny black beetle that screamed if I touched it with a twig.
I felt solidarity with that beetle. I was angry, disappointed, and in pain. The beetle said the thing I couldn’t say for me, and I felt very fond of it for doing so.
This thread brought to you by Being Isolated Alone and Ruminating on How I Weathered This Kinda Shit in the Past
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