I sent Myles to go brush his teeth the other night and he hollered at me that there was a spider in the sink. I told him to kill it, but he said he couldn't get it. So, armed with an especially menacing Nine West flat, I entered the bathroom and killed the offending spider. I returned to the living room only to be called upon again. There was another one!! So, I smashed that one, too. Ha, ha. Everyone thought that was very funny. Two spiders right in a row. But, wait. A third one had just jumped out from behind the mirror. Cripes!!! Ok, three spiders down. I declared that if I saw another one, we were going to have to move. But, there weren't any more.
The kids went to bed and I came back downstairs. I walked into that bathroom and guess what was staring up at me from our bathroom rug? This...Ok, maybe it looked more like this... But that's still not much better.
I, of course, shrieked like the girl that I am and the kids came running. I had already grabbed my trusty shoe and was beating the crap out of our rug. I was truly tempted to just roll up the rug and toss the whole thing in the trash, but decided to be brave and grab out the smashed spider bits. That was the end of our spider adventures for the day, but none of us feels comfortable in that bathroom anymore. And the movie arachnophobia may be at fault. I'm definitely not going down into the basement to see if there's any sort of nest being built down there.
If I do see one more spider in the house, this will likely be me.