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Let’s talk spiders. The subject came to me recently when I encountered a plump shiny black widow in my store room. Arachnophobic I am not, but these things can kill ya’ so I stomped on him/her.

Sorry, but I’m not totally enlightened yet. I still eat poultry and fish and squish certain bugs.
Anyhoo, I realized that cobwebs are invading my life. When I glance in the mirror I see a decisive and complex web draped across my entire face (OK, not on my nose yet, but who nose what’s next?).

Cobwebs also becloud my brain. There are simply too many memories to visit, thus, many have been neglected. And you know how spiders are. They make a beeline to all areas of abandonment.

So, here’s the bloody (British for “stinking”) latest: You may remember the account of a tarantula in my left eyeball a couple columns back?

Well, it’s ba-a-a-a-ack! This time in the right eye.

For those of you who aren’t faithful readers and didn’t catch the aforementioned column, I’m referring to those vaporous dark dots, moon jellies and amoebas that drift before your line of sight – especially when you’re looking at the sky. You know, where your eye is the Christmas globe and if you move it vigorously, it shakes up the snowflakes.

They are quite common and usually no big deal. However, this Daddy Long Legs couldn’t be ignored.

“Am I having a stroke?” I mused again. “Will God/dess take me to heaven (that I’m not sure exists) because my body will be found in the humbling position of prayer (to he, she, it or they)?
I waited for the lights to go out and they did, but only the ones I decided to shut off after ascertaining that I was still alive.

Once more I called my handsome Brazilian ophthalmologist but it was one day post Christmas and he was out of the country (probably romping on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, like a family friend once did with her new lover and she died of a heart attack right there in the sand at age 50-something, but that’s another story).

However, his receptionist connected me with an even specialer specialist who focuses (pun intended) on retinas.

Hopefully, he would tell me my pet spider was nothing to worry about and I could drop the whole subject.

No dice. I actually did reach him and he said I must be seen immediately; that sudden onset floaters and flashing lights could result in a torn retina and – horrors – blindness.

I don’t know about you, but I am highly visual. The shapes and colors in nature serve as my greatest inspiration, and the mere thought of navigating a world in the dark makes me shudder down to my bones and contemplate drinking two cans of Draino.

So a friend (a personal angel in my pocket and she knows it) drove me to the new doctor’s office because I was told that this time they would dilate both my eyes and I would be blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other for a few hours.

Lucky for me, everything again looked normal in my peepers. And aside from the fact that my pupils resembled those of a space cadet on LSD, I could actually see to navigate.

“Hallelujah! I can see! I can see!” I shouted to my other angel friend who drove me home. “See spots! See spots run! Run spots, run! Keep running!” I had regressed into a Dick and Jane reverie.

And, speaking of spots . . . Today, I’m pedaling my bike down the quaint streets of good ol’ P.G. and spot a friend up on her roof, removing Christmas tree lights. She shouts, “Hey! How have you been? Howz your health?”

I recount my pet spider story and she shouts, “Wow! I’m 60 and now I find out I have a heart problem I have to take medication for. Isn’t aging a bitch?”

“Well, it’s better than not aging,” I relay. “I mean, taking a dirt nap.”

Then we laugh because, hey, she’s up on a roof and I’m biking. So it can’t be all that bad . . .


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