My heart stopped.
And then it moved again. In my haven of a bed, on my perfectly matching pillow, a spider was scurrying about. I leaped with full force ejecting myself out of the vicinity. What to do next? Save the computer! Save the chocolate! Save the peanut butter! Leave the trash.... put on some shoes... run around aimlessly. And then, I remembered a poisonous spray I keep under the sink for wasps. I grew up in the panhandle and we didn't deal with those much, so I like the poison spray that zaps them dead instead of trusting my aim with a big shoe. I quickly grabbed the can, a rag and ran back to my room. I inched closer and spotted the eight legged creature again. I held my breath. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it echoing in my head. I sprayed the projectile wasp poison on my perfectly matching 14.99 TJMAX down throw pillow and backed away to safety. (What was the spider going to do, fly up and get me?) The arachnid was furious with me. It scattered in circles and hopped up and down hiding under the pillow. (I'm sure it was hissing obscenities at me and spitting venom) Well now what? I took a deep breath, counted to three and turned over the soiled pillow. And we were off to the races again! The spider took off running amok before curling on my bedspread. I sprayed it again. This time I watched it writhing in pain, but it wasn't enough, it was STILL moving!!!! This was war. This house isn't big enough for the both of us. I chased it onto the floor where I stomped it to its death. DIE!!!!!!!!!!!
I won. Sweaty, near heart failure, but victorious. I grabbed shout and attempted to clean my poor, poor pillow. As far as casualties go, better it than me, though.
I suppose my rough and tough upbringing masquerades me as being bullet proof. But, the truth is this: I would rather castrate a cow than deal with a spider.