I was at a friend’s party some time ago when someone noticed a rather meaty-looking cobweb hanging from a light fixture, and said something about not wanting to run into the spider that had spun it.

“It’s just a cobweb,” I said, authoritatively, “they’re made from dust, not spiders.”

I don’t remember if I punctuated that statement with a highly creative and mature-sounding duuuh, but I probably did.

I do remember conversation coming to a standstill and everyone looking at me like I was drunk.

Most likely, my misconception about cobwebs and their connection to actual arachnids was not my fault. It probably came from a day when someone wanted me to practice piano like I was supposed to, and not whine about how scary and cobwebby our unfinished family room-slash-piano-storage-space was.

The most likely origin of this weird belief is the person in my life whose factoids usually went without question. My Dad.