What is worse than finding a squashed spider on your foot...?

...Finding half a squashed spider on your foot.

This is exactly what happened to me the other day! I'd got up and was in between wearing pyjamas and being fully dressed (our house is always unfathomably chilly so socks, slippers & sloppy jumpers when you get out of bed is an absolute must) and I was just about to get dressed, which meant it was about 9am.

I was removing my morning socks and changing into the ones I'd chosen to match my attire that day when I noticed something weird atop my foot. Closer inspection revealed it to be half of a squashed spider. You can imagine the noise I made. I am terrified of spiders, they really creep me out, I even have a spider dance which I do when startled by one of the eight legged brigade. A stamping of feet, accompanied by a waving of arms and flicking of fingers. I think it is tribal based, having its origins in warding off evil spirits in a 'get the potential for actual spiders off me physically and all thoughts of ethereal arachnids out of my head as quickly as possible' sort of way. After I'd uttered sufficient exclamations and expressions, representing an equal mix of disgust, terror and confusion and performed my spider dance, I was ready to remove the unfortunate half beastie. It wasn't too crunchy which meant it must have been freshly dead.

I'd showered before bed, so the spider either had to have been in bed with me, or it crawled into my socks during the night. (The socks generally spend their time when not being worn lounging around on the floor - a pair will do me a few days, as I usually only wear them for an hour or so!) I had to find out where the other half of the spider was, I couldn't bear the though of it lurking around in some dark corner waiting to be discovered and leap out and give me another unpleasant surprise. Not that half a dead spider is capable of leaping - I'm going for drama here at the expense of realism!  I heaved the covers off the bed to inspect the sheet, no half dead spiders, good. I was relieved but also disappointed. I couldn't remember which sock had been on which foot so I had to inspect the insides of both. This proved very difficult as the socks I favour for my morning socks are inevitably rather fluffy on the inside, meaning I had to carefully part woolly sock fibres which were cream, flecked with brown and black and annoyingly this is the exact same colour as half a dead spider. I was thorough, but still could not find the other half. I realised at this point I was destined never to find it and I had to face the fact that I would forever live my days wondering how half a dead spider came to be mashed against my foot and where on earth the other half could possibly have got to. I felt sorry for the spider, that he had been merrily ambling along, minding his own business (albeit on my foot which he had no right to be mountaineering at that moment) when with an almighty splat, something came along and pummelled him into non-existence. I had a moment's silence, whispered a silent 'sorry' under my breath and went about the business of getting dressed.

Incidentally, I saved the squished spider remains and I did momentarily consider taking a photograph to display alongside my blog but it turns out that half a dead spider isn't so photogenic. Who'd have thought it?