When You Are Engulfed in Flames

by David Sedaris

him. “You girls are afraid of your own shadows,” he’d say, and no matter how big the thing was, he’d scoot it onto a newspaper and release it outside. Come bedtime I’d knock on my sisters’ door and predict that the spider was now crawling to the top of the house, where he’d take a short breather before heading down the chimney. “I read in the encyclopedia that this particular breed is known for its tracking ability, and that once it’s pegged its victims, almost nothing will stop it. Anyway, good night.” They’d have been horrified by the house in Normandy, as would most people, probably. Even before I joined the American Arachnological Society, the place looked haunted, cobwebs sagging like campaign

bunting from the rafters and curtain rods. If one was in my way, I’d knock it down. But that all changed after I discovered