saga...

(alternate title: why I need a boyfriend)

So, lying in bed reading last night, I glance up at the ceiling and notice a HUGE spider lurking up there. No biggie, right? Then it starts spinning a web and drops down and hustles back up the strand. The heebie-jeebies hit. I start a mini-freak out.

I get up and get a broom and take a whack at it... lurking and staring at me. But instead of killing it, I knocked it down and then I couldn't find it, until I look on a shopping bag that is storing some socks and against the white, I see the unfurled legs. OhNo! Spidey is not disabled. I took another swat at it and see Spidey scuttle along the floor. I figure everything's ok and resume reading.

But after about ten minutes--Spidey is again lurking and glaring at me from the ceiling. This time I call a truce. I tried to take a photo but my batteries ran out and every time I tried to zoom in, it just looked like a dime on the ceiling. So I turned the light off and decided to sleep with one eye open. My one eye against Spidey's bajillion eyes.

I had freaky dreams.

But when I awoke and looked around, Spidey was in the same place as last night. Spiders sleep? Anyhoodle, I kept staring at Spidey and Spidey kept staring back. Finally, I got out of bed and did my thing. Later in the afternoon, I checked again and Spidey was still in position. I decided to try the broom again. This time, I smooshed the boom into Spidey and ground it a bit. Spidey tumbled to the window still but I kept smacking and grinding with the broom until I saw a trail of legs and a smoosh mark.

Honestly, I'm feeling upset about the whole thing. It's weird to have any feelings about a spider. But I killed a spider. I know, I know... it's a spider. Part of it is because I had to take care of it myself. This is when a boyfriend/husband would come in handy. They usually don't mind killing stuff.

gah. What if this is as good as it gets?