Let me begin by saying that I've never been afraid of spiders. I don't particularly care for inadvertently walking through a web, but the spiders themselves are not a major problem for me. If I see a spider in the house, I just take care of it myself. I do not stand on chairs, squeal like a girl, or beg my husband to kill it for me.
Some of you might be thinking, "What about cave crickets? Aren't you afraid of them?" Well see, that's another story. Cave crickets are not technically insects or arachnids. They are the devil with an exoskeleton.
So anyway...spiders. After tonight I will probably develop a healthy fear and respect of them and steer clear when I see one. Because tonight we had a scene in the basement that would've been right at home in a Ridley Scott movie.
There was a spider crawling along the baseboard behind the keyboard. Nine was trying to practice his piece for piano lessons, but he was worried about that spider. Dan waited for it to move away from the wall enough so he could squish it. Nine and I were busy looking at his homework Dan waited to flush out the critter.
All of a sudden, we heard a surprised yell erupt from the other side of the room. Dan had tried to kill the spider by stepping on it, but when he smooshed it, several baby spiders came bursting out and started crawling in every direction away from their dead parent.
Full. Body. Shudder.
This memory, plus the dark chocolate-covered espresso beans I scarfed earlier with a diet Coke chaser, will keep me up all night.