The spiders are out to get me.

Okay. Anyone who knows me knows I'm afraid of spiders. Really really really really afraid of spiders. I know they are only the size of my finger tip (shudder), but in my world they take up half of the room that the two of us (i.e. me and the spider) are in. It's like they have a force field around them that saps any kind of intrepid attempt I may make to try and squash them.

And lately it seems that they have all conspired to come and terrorize me. It has rained a lot (which I'm sure has nothing whatsoever to do with this) lately and so all the spiders have decided that our house is their life raft. So do they think to politely stay hidden in corners and under things so that I can remain blissfully unaware of their existence? No. They have all decided that the safest place to stay away from the rain is on the floor on my side of the bed. There are more than 1000 square feet of great hideouts all over this house and for 3 - count them, THREE - mornings now I wake up and find myself stranded in my own bed without a spider-slaying prince to come and save me. So I've had to take my own safety and sanity into my own hands. After praying fervently that the spider doesn't move - because you know it's worse when you've seen one and then it's not there anymore and you don't know where it went - I gallop to the closest can of spider killer, spray a nice puddle onto the carpet (screw the fibers, I'm saving my life here), then watch in horror and joy as the thing twitches to death. Then I let it crustify for a few hours, then vacuum it up.

But it doesn't end there. I was mowing the backyard today and I saw the hugest brown spider EVER. Then I saw like 5 more. They are the size of baby frogs. That's big. BIG. So now I'm afraid to cut the grass or even go in our backyard.

So that's my story. The spiders are out to get me.