I would often find them in the bed and developed a complex of being unable to sleep in that bed unless he was in it with me. I would try to stay up all night and sleep during the daytime in the summer anyway, because he had taken a job working the graveyard shift and I had bad anxiety issues. One night, I was working at my computer, and I felt an itch at my leg. I didn't think about it and just scratched at it. I felt what I thought was a thread or a hair or something, and started balling it up in my fingers. Then I felt wet. I lifted it up to look at it, and saw that I had been balling up a giant house spider.
Oddly enough, and to prove my point from before about them being harmless, it had NOT tried to bite me. I was crushing it TO DEATH and it didn't bite me.
holy shit. spider. IN MY HAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That was some serious shit.
When we moved out, we broke apart his old futon bed, and they had been nesting under it. Every single peice of wood, even the smallest ones, had spiders on them. I wouldn't even pick up a peice of wood the same size as my hand, because there was a big spider on it. Boyfriend was getting mad at the time, but later felt bad when he remembered that I am a LADY. He should cover puddles with his coat for me, and he should certainly not make me touch spiders.
What a dick.
In reality, Boyfriend was a trooper, always protecting me from spiders. We had two cats at the time, one was mine, and she was hyper-active, and aggressive about chasing anything small that moved. The other one was left behind and we took her in; she was clearly mentally stunted, and when she wasn't going through separation anxiety, she was relieving herself on the carpet... but at least she often would clean up after herself.
The two of them in combination were pretty useless, and Boyfriend always had to do their jobs because the stupid cat was constantly thwarting the smarter cat's efforts, and getting in her way, so the smart cat would just get frustrated and go do something else. *I* of course, if you remember, am A LADY. I do not deal with spiders. That's what men are for.
Here's a diagram as follows:
This diagram is 90% accurate. I have a third arm that I used to draw or type this in between juggling a pie and a plate of cookies. Also, I may be a delicate, fragile, domesticated woman who shatters in fear at the sight of a tiny harmless arachnid, but I am NOT above punching it into a wall with my great big Canadian Lumberjack fists if it gets too close to my person.
The scene events usually unfolded a something like this: