Look.  Let’s just forego the obligatory sorry-I-haven’t-posted-in-awhile spiel and get straight to the important thing I have to tell you.  You’re all well aware that I’m busy and a parent and so absent-minded that I forget I have a blog sometimes.  So.  To the point.

THERE WAS A SPIDER IN MY OFFICE THE SIZE OF A SMALL CHILD YESTERDAY. (Reason #1 why it took me 35 days to write another post.  Instead of 34.) (Because you can’t just WALK BACK INTO a room that housed a 6 ft. spider* without knowing WHERE THE FUCK HE WENT.) (Look.  I MAY have screamed like a boy and ran through the door faster than it actually opened.  And I MAY have run through our manufacturing facility in flip-flops frantically looking for the first person I could find that grows chest hair to COME KILL IT.  KILL IT NOW.) (That spawn of hell MAY have DISAPPEARED while I was out screaming in flip-flops.)

(Also:  when I walked into my office and spotted him on the floor, he was totally, absolutely LOOKING AT ME.  Ya know, like he was SIZING ME UP.  YOU WIN, MOTHERFUCKER.)

After being unsuccessful at finding chivalry on our production line (they act like their WORK is more important!  Phhffbbbt!!!) I hauled ass upstairs to the administrative office to find somebody, anybody to go look for him.  And SET HIM ON FIRE DAMMIT.  (I MAY have been slap in the middle of a panic attack at this point, I don’t remember.)(But probably was.  People were staring.  And pointing.  And laughing.)

One of our engineers took it upon himself to go hunt him down and smoosh him.  AND THEN BRING HIM BACK UPSTAIRS TO SHOW EVERYBODY, INCLUDING ME.

There was an up-side and a down-side to this act of heroism.  Up-side being that The Beast was dead.  And my new boss took one look at him and quit making his “was-it-THIS-big-Liz?” jokes while holding his arms over his head as if he were singing the “out comes the sun” part from, oh I dunno, THE DAMN ITSY BITSY SPIDER SONG.


I had to call my husband.  He’ll be compassionate about this.  He understands my phobia.  Sort of.  Ok, maybe he just tolerates it.  Anyway.

I guess he was busy working or something cuz he sorta acted like he didn’t have time to listen to my story, nor to tell me to breathe deep.  Or to breathe at all.  Hmph.

And THEN.  One of my coworkers was all I stepped on a spider once.  And a ton of baby spiders started running everywhere.

*insert screeching record sound here*

‘Scuse me?

Immediate flashback to Charlotte’s Web where Charlotte’s eggs hatch and THOUSANDS OF BABY SPIDERS EMERGE.

(And yes, I’m well aware that Charlotte’s Web was animated.  And I can’t bring myself to watch the modern version a la Dakota Fanning because I sense they used a real spider since she was a real girl and Wilbur was a real pig.  And by real, I mean REAL.)

Y’all, this is the shit of my nightmares.  I kid you not.  I mean, I’m about to have a panic attack just writing about it.  Seriously.  Too soon, maybe?

So.  I have since constructed a foot stool to go under my desk so that my feet do not have to touch the floor.  And I have a freshly-refilled bottle of Envirocide next to my keyboard, at the ready.  I know it will kill spiders because it says it kills AIDS.  Well, I’m ASSUMING it can kill spiders if it can kill AIDS.  Maybe I need something stronger?

Anybody got a torch I can borrow?

*6 ft. = approximately 4 inches in diameter.  Maybe 3.  DEFINITELY not less than 3.


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