Freaking arachnids

So I'm sitting at the kitchen table with Chris, and I happen to look into the living room and see, just above the top of the windowshades, a BIG, BIG spider. Now, I normally don't mind spiders, but when they're that large and obviously heading for the ceiling so they can lower themselves down onto my head or dangle in front of my face later-- no. Bad. The following ensued...

Me: "Look at that thing! Where's the flyswatter?"

Chris: "In the kitchen somewhere."

Me: *looks* "I can't find it."

Chris: "Hold on, I'll kill it in a minute."

Me: "No, I am not waiting for it to find somewhere to hide and ambush me." *grabs broom*

Chris: *gives me a 'what am I getting myself into' look as I stalk by and then swat the spider*

Big-Ass Spider of Doom: *falls down on the floor and lies there, dead*

Me: *is triumphant*

Terminator Spider: *suddenly gets up and charges right at me*

Me: "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" *hits spider multiple times, dislocating the top half of the broom*

Chris: "Normally you fuss at me if I kill a spider instead of taking it outside. Now you broke my broom over a bug."

Me: "Those were little harmless ones, though. This was Death Spider." *pokes it with the broom to make sure it really is dead, then fixes the broom and throws the spider away*



For the record, that is just about the only reason I like winter. Fewer bugs.