Apology to an Arachnid

Dear Spider,

I apologize most profusely for my behavior yesterday morning. You see, when I got into the shower, I had no intention of killing anything. However, because you chose to make your appearance at a rather inopportune moment - and nudity, namely mine, was involved - I couldn't help but end up flattening you with a pumice stone in a fit of uncharacteristically girly squealing.

See, it wasn't just that I found you in the shower; although that probably would have caused your demise, it would have been relatively silent. No, dear spider, it's because I found you On My Head. In my hair as I ran my hands through to rinse. And you weren't particularly tiny, either.

I feel it was rather rude of you to make such an entrance, especially as my original skittishness regarding your ilk started with your kin sliding down into the bathtub of my childhood and popping out from under the bath mat. See the connection? I'm nude and vulnerable, and one of your relatives pops out. Though I will say not one of them were ever so churlish as to end up ON me.

I still have no knowledge of your original hiding place. My suspicion is that you took cover in the relative darkness of a folded washcloth, and landed on my head as I washed my face.

Please accept my sincerest apologies for my part in your untimely gory demise. I hope your relatives will soon commit to memory the concept that so long as they remain outside, we all can live in harmony.