I’ve lived my life until now free of a fear of spiders. Mostly, I think, because I live in the northeast where spiders are small, hairless things (or so I thought). The only time I recall fearing a spider was when a tarantula the size of my head crossed the road in front of my car (which I pulled to a screeching halt) when I was driving through the San Joaquin Valley.
And then there was today.
Today, I am officially afraid of spiders or at least one spider. The big, hairy, striped spider that is living on the lid of my compost bin (which I thought was feeding off a cocoon, squished into one of the corners of the lid but after researching further–see photo above–I think she must be a Wolf Spider and that thing her egg sac. Nice.)
I couldn’t see the thing because I have one of those bins which sits on its side and you twirl whenever you put crap in it. So it was underneath–right where I put my fingers AND TOUCHED IT, nearly squishing it (shudder to think).
I put the lid down gently and pretended I didn’t see it until after I had dumped my stuff in the bin and put the lid back on.
So now I’m thinking I either need to get in touch with these people, or stop composting, or never go outside again.
myfanwy collins 
Awwww. I don’t mind spiders, in fact I allow them to wander about my home — as long as they’re the small brownish ones. I’m ashamed to admit that I murder the big shiny black ones.