Spinning a web

If there's one creation I'm not thankful for, it's a spider. The ultimate of creepy crawlies, these hell escapees have no place in this world, in my opinion. I know I know..."The greater good of the ecosystem...", "But they eat other bugs..." to that I respond with the worst pun of the day; "bugger off"! Because these 8-legged fiends about one-hundredth of my size are the bane of my existence ... and never so much as in autumn.
Ironically, I was born in the month during which spiders, as a species, reach their zenith. At this time they out do themselves in number and presence in the home as the weather gets colder and they migrate indoors to cause illimitable terror among arachnophobes, such as myself. Yet, as it is only the third day in September, the little imps remain outdoors but take the liberty to strew their silk from limbs of trees to anything and everything else that remains static for more than approx. 7 minutes. So that, upon leaving the front door in the morning, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air that holds the promise of brisk autumnal days ahead, I sally forth carefree toward my car when I feel it. Strands of loathsome silk cling to my face and give way while my own momentum carries me right through a web strung from the roof of the house down to the brick walkway. I spastically swipe at my face, arms, chest while frantically trying convince myself of some outlandish lie so as not to lose my head entirely in early-morning suburbia: "it's just your own hair, Meg" or "it's okay, that web has been there and unoccupied for ages!" No dice. My freak-out level is at about a 9.8 as I instantly fantasize of running back indoors, taking a shower and crawling into a huge plastic bubble in which I will plan to live out my days.
I read in "TIME" magazine about 3 years ago, that as a resident in the United States, one is likely to be within 8 feet of a spider at any given time. Yeah. If that doesn't keep you up tonight, nothing will.
I have nightmares about spiders all. the. time.
I bear a scar from a spider bite incurred about 8 years ago on my left hand thus ruining any chances of my ever becoming a hand model...little scamp...
To add insult to injury, these miniature monstrosities have a certain affinity for building their homes, right outside my bedroom window so that, inevitably, I will be cleaning my bedroom some lovely day and feel the impulse to open the blinds and THERE! Unexpected yet predictably some dastardly arachnid will be suspended in the middle of my view causing me to utter some uncontrollable shriek. You may think to yourself, "so what? tear it down and the problem is solved within minutes." No, my friend. The brutes are not only hideous to behold but they are also dumb as dirt. Day next, there it is again and it is only a matter of time before it, along with its kind, steal into the house unannounced and unwelcome. But no matter, for you see, I have the ultimate secret weapon. A lower-case-'g' god among men, spartan of the defenseless ... The ABC Pest Control guy.
So I sleep soundly, knowing my house has been vindicated of the curse of the little beasties and though I still have nightmares every now and then about spiders and wake up convinced that my disheveled hair is a mass of web - I know that $38 couldn't be allotted any more rightly than in payment to my champion, the pest control guy.