A little smthg. w/which to scare the kids...

My house is infested w/spiders. Big, brown, nocturnal, semi-hairy, jumping spiders. And that does not even begin to describe how repulsive they are in the, um, whatever arachnids have for flesh. I have been assured that my most unwelcome guests are not of the brown recluse variety, but I would rather not test those waters to make sure. Oh, and did I mention that there used to be a Gigantor one that lived in a corner of our cathedral ceiling in the living room and when she ate (I'm pretty sure it was a she b/c it actually had a web, unlike the others, and I think that's where she kept her spawn), you could *hear* her -- "clickclickclick." Her pincers clicking, snipping through the thorax of her meal, you could *hear* that, 15 feet below, sitting on our couch, trying to watch The Simpsons or some such bullshit.

Pret-ty Gross. But, not gross enough to overcome my inability to kill thgs. I don't know when this happened, but it seems I am loathe to kill anythg., even nasty bug interlopers. These spiders have shown up everywhere fr. my dresser drawers to my BED. And still, I could not actually kill one. Usually, I would just flail and they would scurry or I would get one of the cats to chase the latest offendor into hiding. Occasionally, for v. small ones that did not yet scare the bejeezus out of me, I would scoop them up w/a glass and take them outside.

But the tide has turned decidedly against the eight-legged invaders. It is on. Full-on Bugs-You-Are-Going-Down War.

The other day, I stepped out of the shower, started toweling off, thinking how glad I am that winter is over and the bathroom is no longer cold when I get out of the hot water and wondering where my leave-in conditioner had gotten to, when I noticed that my navy blue towel had suddenly sprouted a spot of unattractive brown color. And then the spot moved toward my face. Oh, the hell no. Much as I would like to say that I did not shriek and jump around like I moron, I cannot. In fact, I squealed so loudly, Eli thought I had fallen in the tub and hurt myself (I'm a little surprised I didn't). I did, however, manage to compose myself enough to shake the towel quite aggressively, a maneuver which not only removed the spider fr. my towel, but also injured it. Feeling it would be wrong to lv. it to suffer so, I called Eli in to the bathroom and he picked it up w/some TP and put it in the toilet. Dead. I felt a little bad abt. this.

Until tonight.

Again, minding my own business, on my way to the bathroom to get some floss so I can start my nightly routine, when -- FLPTH!! TWO AND A HALF INCH SPIDER ON MY FOOT. Asshole *jumped* out fr. behind my bedroom door and onto my foot -- and I am not exaggerating. He didn't stay there long, but it was enough: one of us had to go. For a little bit, it looked like it would be me. I immediately laced on a pair of sneakers (needed smthg. to protect my now-tainted feet) and I contemplated just sleeping in the guest bedroom and lvng. my bedroom to the spider. But then I saw the spider attempting to get INTO MY BED and it was over. It was my own little post-traumatic flashback montage: envisioning the last time I found a spider in my bed crawling up my arm, thinking of the one of my towel, the one I found in my pajamas...ARGH!! I got a pair of gloves, put a plastic bag over my foot, hurled small objects at the fucker until he was trapped in a corner and then I did it -- I killed him. W/my plastic-bag clad foot, I squashed him.

I felt sort of happy, like I had accomplished smthg., until I thought abt. how I must have looked: I was hunched over, shaking slightly, in a corner of my room wearing fleece gloves, tennis shoes, an Old Navy shopping bag covering my right leg fr. the knee down, and...a blue satin nighty. That's right, folks, I had thought it would be nice to put on smthg. cute for Eli since I'm moving in a wk. and then he goes to Korea for a yr. And this is how it ended -- me in a blue teddy, looking like a mental patient, muttering abt. killer spiders, wearing gloves in 80 degree heat, and stomping around w/a plastic bag on one foot. Spicy.