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(Not certain where to post this)
Some days ago when I first started to get sick I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the kitchen to fix myself a convoluted cup of coffee. I had the energy of a half-dead slug so this was way more effort than usual.
I turned to go to the fridge to get my coffee stuff when I spotted, to my dismay, a big, hideous, long-legged spider. I start to freak out but it ran under the fridge.
I kind of shrugged; “f*ck it, he can live under there.”
Well, he (it?) decided it was a better idea to shoot out from under the fridge and run right at me.
Cue me screaming like a banshee!
I ran to get the broom and did gird my loins to battle the Fukushima-escapee mutant arachnid.
WHACK! WHACK! I smacked it with the broom. Hard!
WHACK! WHACK! A battle cry befitting my ancestors came from my lips. (Probably.)
I’m screaming the whole time and the spider didn’t die. This made me freak out more. “”f*ck! IT’S NOT DYING!!!” Ew ew! I smacked it several more times. It was an epic battle.
Finally, it was dead but in that gross way spiders die; legs curled up.
I was too freaked out to get rid of the corpse so I simply grabbed my coffee, bolted with it to my office in tears. My (formerly) dead phobia came roaring back. I blame being unwell. I totally overreacted.
Anyway, finally my husband found me and tearfully, I told him everything so he went to go give the creature a “burial at sea” (flushed down the toilet.)
He came back and said “it’s not there.” Horrified for a second, I thought it was a zombie and had crawled away!
Nope, our cat had eaten it LOL. Dead spiders are tasty treats for cats, apparently. I don’t know how the hell she found it so quickly?! It was mere minutes. Too bad she didn’t come when I was yelling and assassinate it for me!
You’re welcome, kitty.
Some days ago when I first started to get sick I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the kitchen to fix myself a convoluted cup of coffee. I had the energy of a half-dead slug so this was way more effort than usual.
I turned to go to the fridge to get my coffee stuff when I spotted, to my dismay, a big, hideous, long-legged spider. I start to freak out but it ran under the fridge.
I kind of shrugged; “f*ck it, he can live under there.”
Well, he (it?) decided it was a better idea to shoot out from under the fridge and run right at me.
Cue me screaming like a banshee!
I ran to get the broom and did gird my loins to battle the Fukushima-escapee mutant arachnid.
WHACK! WHACK! I smacked it with the broom. Hard!
WHACK! WHACK! A battle cry befitting my ancestors came from my lips. (Probably.)
I’m screaming the whole time and the spider didn’t die. This made me freak out more. “”f*ck! IT’S NOT DYING!!!” Ew ew! I smacked it several more times. It was an epic battle.
Finally, it was dead but in that gross way spiders die; legs curled up.

I was too freaked out to get rid of the corpse so I simply grabbed my coffee, bolted with it to my office in tears. My (formerly) dead phobia came roaring back. I blame being unwell. I totally overreacted.
Anyway, finally my husband found me and tearfully, I told him everything so he went to go give the creature a “burial at sea” (flushed down the toilet.)
He came back and said “it’s not there.” Horrified for a second, I thought it was a zombie and had crawled away!
Nope, our cat had eaten it LOL. Dead spiders are tasty treats for cats, apparently. I don’t know how the hell she found it so quickly?! It was mere minutes. Too bad she didn’t come when I was yelling and assassinate it for me!
You’re welcome, kitty.
