One morning as I went to make the bed, I peeled down the covers to smooth out the sheets and saw something very disconcerting. There, on my side of the bed, about halfway down, was a large dark spot. Upon closer examination, the dark spot revealed itself to have legs. And upon even closer examination, the dark spot revealed itself to be legs attached to a large, smushed spider.

“OH! MY! GOD!!!” I howled.

I recalled a spider lurking in the corner of the ceiling the night before, but seeing as it wasn’t a Tarantula or a Black Widow Spider, I figured I could let it lurk if it wanted to, and I rolled over and went to sleep.

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However, lurking on the ceiling and climbing into bed with me were two very different things. And from the look of it, he not only climbed into bed with me during the night, but as he crawled around my slumbering body, he became the victim of a snore and run.

Had I been one of those animal advocates that wouldn’t harm a fly, or a spider, as the case may be, I would have felt terrible. But I am not. I am one of those animal lovers who like soft and fluffy things, but detest, no…loathe, no…am totally freaked out by anything with more eyes than a Mr. Potato Head toy and enough legs to be the sole player on a soccer team.

When I was a little girl and I would discover a spider in my bedroom, I would drag one of my brothers into my room to take the spider out “for a ride.” But today there was no one in the house except the dog to come rescue me from a monster spider, albeit a dead one, so I was basically alone to ponder how I felt about having a spider in my bed while I slept. Bruce Springsteen, I would have been okay with. A giant spider? Not so much.

Of course, the big issue at this point was not dwelling on what happened during the night, but what to do now with the ginormous, hairy, smushed spider in my bed? Should I remove it from the sheets before I washed them? I don’t think I had the guts to pick it up, even if I used enough paper towel to bury a Yak. Should I just take the sheets, spider and all and throw them directly in the washing machine? What if it fell off the sheet while I was stripping the bed and landed in my hair? I’d probably freak out and shave my head. Then I would be known everywhere as the Bald Spider Lady.

See, now this is why people drink.

I finally decided to get a magazine and use it to flick the spider off the sheet and onto the floor, and then vacuum it up.

Summoning up all the courage I could muster, I shimmied across the bed, got the magazine right up against the spider, and then flipped it to the floor. But before I could grab the vacuum, the dog bounded over to the dead spider…

And ate it.

Problem solved.

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