Crossing the Line

As I've mentioned before, I have an uncontrollable fear of spiders. If I find one, I can't even kill it. Don't you realize it could wait until the precise moment I get close enough and jump off the wall and bite me on the hand, which would definitely hurt and then the venom would quickly start to dissolve my skin and poison my blood because with my luck, it would be some exotic spider from the rainforest, that somehow survived years outside of it's normal habitat and was living in my kitchen, waiting to kill me? G always indulges my fear by coming to the rescue and killing them. Well, to put things in perspective, the average sized spider in Germany seems to be four times the size of the ones in the US and they have no fear whatsoever of humans. So, on Saturday morning, at G's parents' house, I found myself in the bathroom, standing naked in the shower, staring face to fang with a spider about the size of a silver dollar. I immediately screamed for G. No reply. I yell his name again and his Mom comes to the door, telling me that he's upstairs. I couldn't think of the German word for spider (spinne) fast enough to explain the problem, so I just grabbed the closest weapon available, the shower head. I turned on the water and doused the spider and blew it off the ceiling, to the corner, to the floor! I definitely killed it. But I couldn't bring myself to actually pick up the carcass with toilet paper and throw it away. Of course, after all of the drama, G finally comes downstairs. While I'm explaining what happened, his Dad comes into the bathroom. Luckily, I have my pajamas back on but I'm totally sweaty with my hair all over my head and obviously, having a little breakdown. G's Dad listens and as I'm talking, I see him looking at the ceiling and the walls, completely drenched with water. He says, "Meine Güte!" and picks up the carcass and explains, in an irritated voice, the innumerable reasons why I shouldn't be afraid of spiders. At this moment, I realize that I have just crossed that line of being a "guest" in their house. I am officially getting cussed out, politely, but cussed out, all the same. After he leaves, G says, "He's totally pissed." Perfect. So, I take a shower and get dressed, all the while trying not to really freak out about my soon to be Father In Law thinking I'm some skittish, silly American city girl (accurate). Thank goodness, G helped to smooth things over - we went out and bought a package of his Dad's favorite candy, Lakritz, and with a sincere apology and the peace offering, I think everything was okay. I hope!