I hate spiders.

Little spiders, big spiders, brown spiders, black spiders – I’m an equal opportunity despiser when it comes to spiders.

You see, I’ve got an irrational fear that spiders are incredibly smart and vengeful and that, if I anger them, they will figure out a way to kill me.

I’m guessing you understand why I don’t tell many people this info about me, so howzabout we keep it between us. After all, I have a reputation to uphold.

The truth is, I expect that one morning I will walk out my front door into a massive spider web. As I scramble to free myself from the sticky strings, the spider will lunge at me from its hiding place and proceed to bite my face off.

I know, it’s not logical, but neither is Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck back together, yet here we are.

You know who didn’t help me with my irrational spider fears? JK Rowling, that’s who

The Harry Potter movie did to me with spiders what “Jaws” did to me with sharks.

As it turns out, I also have an irrational fear that a mutant species of super-large spiders will invade our planet and proceed to eat all the humans. Or at least bite us in half.

I don’t want to be bitten in half by a mutant spider.

Just as I convinced myself that this whole fear is ridiculous, along comes the scene in the Harry Potter movie where he is battling a mutant species of super-large spiders that eat humans or at least bite them in half.

I can’t with all of this spider stuff. I just can’t.

The Secret to Success lucha libre

The Fall of the Spider

Autumn time in Los Angeles is spider time.

Every year at this time there is a large spider that inhabits our outdoor patio. This spider builds its web high up in the air, between the trees that hang right above our outside table.

The spider is big and chunky. Hypothetically, if somebody were wacko enough to fear being attacked by a spider, this particular spider is the one they’d probably imagine would pounce down on them, all Lucha Libre-like.

The big spider sits there in the middle of its web waiting for food – like maybe it’ll catch a passing pterodactyl or something.

When I return from my nighttime walk with the dog, I look up at the spider to make sure it’s still there and not, say, camping out by the front door waiting to heave me into the bushes.

Inevitably the spider is sitting in its web staring back at me with an “I got my eyes on you” look on its face.

So I triple-lock the door and check a little more closely between the sheets before climbing into bed.

When I walk outside in the morning, I look up to see the spider with a big smirk across its face and one of its legs pointing at the large insects caught in the web.

I take a big gulp and then call out to my wife, “Hon, I think it’s time for us to move out of this place.”