Very early this morning, Hubby got up to get something to drink. What was waiting for him grossly in front of the fridge? You fucking guessed it, a big, fat, roundish, mean, nasty, did I say huge? SPIDER.

If you've read me at all, then you know of my irrational fear of disgusting, evil spiders. I hate that seeing one turns me instantly into a whimpering three year old girl.

Let me just tell you that I despise the fact that Hubby felt compelled to even think about telling me all about this heinous incident. He prefaced actually telling me by saying, "I shouldn't be telling you this but..." Never...Ever...a good sign.

So, there he was, barefoot in the kitchen, face to face with this creature...ugh...he quickly smashed it with a magazine (I'm getting hives just telling you this). He lifts the magazine up to see the carnage &...(I'm freaking out here...wait...no...I can go on...ok...here goes) Yep, there's the carcass of one dead spider alright...but surprise...there's a zillion tiny baby spiders crawling in all directions away from what is left of their dead mama (fuck, shit, damn...I would have...no, I DID lose it when he told me this...wouldn't you?!). He says that he "got" them all...but maybe he was just humoring me 'cuz be was frightened of the seizure his tale of whoah had triggered in me (sweet of him, right?).

OK, I'm off to treat my hives...(I looked it up)...it says take a soothing bath...I'm off to someone else's house to do that...then I'll get on the phone with a realtor...hey, I'm selling the house cheap because who'd want a house with spiders? (& I'll bet the rest of 'em are angry now...)...