After the divorce an infestation doesn’t flare your anxiety at all. When you tiptoe across the carpet at night, you’re hoping not to land on a new friend. If you feel the spiders lassoing you, it might be the wind in your head, a sign that you’re lonely. Memories of your husband steaming a spider to death, smashing one against a wall, drowning night visitors in the toilet—the memories bite worse than the spiders do. When an eight-legged lover skitters over your comforter at night, you say “how about a nightcap?” as he stares at you with Bette Davis eyes.