I've got lots to do today, but the first thing I was supposed to do today was sleep in. Sleeping in for me usually means getting up around 7AM; during the week my usual wake up time is 5AM. I always like to get at least one day to catch up on sleep; Sunday is out of the question because I have to get up really early and make 2 dozen breakfast burritos for the softball tourney.
At 5AM this morning my sleep came to an abrupt halt when I heard my 15 year old son yelling "MOM! MOM! MOM!" from his room. At first, a bit dazed and confused, I didn't know if I actually heard the cry for help or if I dreamed it. I rose from bed, stumbled to the hallway, flicked on the light and at the end of the hallway right outside my son's room...the big, fat, hairy, scary tarantula stalked. My son suffers from arachnophobia, I walked briskly down the gloomy hallway...stood about a foot from said spider, peered into my son's room and found him standing on top of his bed, almost in tears. He related to me, that he stepped on the spider on his way to get something to drink...it felt weird beneath his foot. He said he got a queasy feeling and almost passed out.
We knew we had the unwelcomed visitor last night, but unable to locate it, we fell into a restless slumber, hoping that the sunrise would shed a better light on the situation. Ms. Hairy Scary didn't wait until daylight, but she should have...in my son's frantic state, my need to catch a few more winks, I trampled said spider, instead of capturing her and releasing her outside, like I usually do.
The death throes of white privilege
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