Like many people, I have a fear of heights. Mine is a modified fear though – I’m only afraid if there’s a chance I’m going to fall. I have no problems flying and being up among the clouds. I used to do rock climbing before my knee gave out on me, too, which doesn’t make any sense at all since I could have fallen doing that. Peering over a ledge on top of a building gives me palpitations. The CN Tower experience is fine until I step outside into the netted area. That’s where I start to sweat. Yet I would dearly love to go hang gliding. Yeah, I don’t get me either. Fears don’t have to be rational I suppose.

But then there are spiders.

If you have kids, chances are you are forced have occasion to watch Sponge Bob Square Pants, and know who Patrick is. There is an episode [Home Sweet Pineapple] where Patrick is dreaming about spiders and beating the living crap out of Sponge Bob with a huge rock, trying to kill the spiders.

I am Patrick.

On the very rare occasion that I have a nightmare, it’s usually about spiders, and my husband has been known to be awakened from a deep sleep by a vicious pillow to the face [once or twice] as I try to fight them off.

My kids think this is a scream. (I do too, after the fact)

My husband takes days to stop twitching.