This is serious stuff. I know what you're thinking right now. Your train of thought is headed somewhere between "Oh, Anna killed an itsy-bitsy spider and now she thinks she's some sort of hero, what a weirdy." and "People really blog about killing spiders? Ridiculous." To both, I say: Yes. I did kill a spider (and even though I'm sure I can't convince you it was massive because when people talk about killing spiders and/or other creepy crawlies they always exaggerate the size, but I'm not even kidding you right now, it was huge), and I do feel like a hero (Spiders are scary, and killing one is about on par with killing a crocodile in this house). And yeah, I'm blogging about it.
So here's how it went down.
I'm just sitting in my room, still wearing my sweet Gold's Gym daycare worker attire (got off about 3 hours ago ... embarrassing.), and alternating between Fruit Ninja and Pinterest. It is at this moment I choose to head to the bathroom to - you guessed it - go to the bathroom. I get in there and am about to do what I went in there to do (Sorry, I'm trying to make this as not weird as possible, and it turns out that's not an easy thing to do when telling a story that takes place in a bathroom), when I see a HUGE spider crawling on the wall above my mirror.
First Thought: Oh. Dang. I gotta go! What the crap am I going to do? I can't go with that stupid spider up there living and possibly seeing this and existing in the world!
Second Thought: What the heck? The spider guy (bug killer, whatever you want to call him) came on freaking Monday! What is this? I'm making an official complaint!
As you can see, I was in hysterics. But I had to try to be logical, because my bladder is roughly the size of an acorn and the nearest bathroom was waaaaay upstairs and that fetching spider might move while I was gone and then where would we be? So I went to the bathroom (fastest time on record), washed my hands as quickly as is humanly possible, and booked it right on out of there.
At this point, I'm at another crossroads. Do I just hide under my covers and pretend I never saw that blasted spider and pray it doesn't make a reappearance? Or do I go in there wielding a shoe and send that thing straight to the afterlife? Obviously I chose the second option, or I wouldn't be blogging right now. So I grabbed one of my boots (I briefly considered borrowing one of Emily's shoes, but decided against it), held my head high, walked into the bathroom, and discovered the spider was gone. Then I had a serious freak out session. And maybe almost cried. Maybe. I tried hitting the wall with my boot to see if that might do something. It didn't. So I just stood there, contemplating my options, when the little bugger scurried into sight. Then I almost cried again. However, realizing the spider might make a run for it if I didn't act fast, I raised my mighty boot and smashed the spider into oblivion. Huzzah! Unfortunately for me, the spider happened to be on one of my cute motivational quotes at the moment of the smashing, so I'm going to have to throw that baby straight in the trash. It was a good quote too ("Every morning is a chance at a new day." - Marjorie Hinkley). It's still a happy story, despite the loss. What war is without casualties?
The end. I slayed the spider. I'm feeling pretty accomplished right now.
I am an un[OFFICIAL] spider slayer.
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