Not a Spider?

The basement of my childhood home housed Daddies Long-legs along with the family vehicles (cars, boats, motorcycles, mopeds, bikes, trikes), Daddy's tools, and Mother's small kiln. As a little girl, I jumped when they jumped. As a bigger little girl, I was not averse to helping them move the way children do -- by taking a leg and flinging. I was not kind or kindly.

Now, I leave them be wherever I find them: comfortably spreadeagled in the corner of the front door's side window, in the mint at the base of the bottle bush, nestled in the hydrangea and azalea.This last location is where I enjoy their company most. So companionable, these creatures -- not spiders, mind you (Order: Opiliones and Family: Phalangiidae) --, "seen in huge gatherings, . . . with legs interlaced" as my bug books says, stack themselves like campers enjoying rest hour on bunk beds.It's the way they share the same leaf and intermingle their legs that moves me most. Who could be afraid of this not-quite-spider?