I came in from work, said hey to the husband, did our small pleasantries, et cetera. He mentioned that there was a spider over by the couch earlier but that it had left when he came back with his paper towel to smoosh it. I really hate spiders. Like, a lot. Like screamy shrieky girly a lot. I voiced displeasure, but you know, I was still going to be able to sleep okay.
Here's where my husband loses ALL credibility. He calls, "Hey, it's back. C'mere." I walk into the living room and on the wall, I find this:
DO YOU SEE HOW BIG IT IS? I guess it's hard to tell, but we're talking larger than a half dollar. I'm going with three inches long. We're not talking about your little "ew, a spider" spider. We're talking ohmyfuckinggodRUN spider. After I died, I snapped a picture and then tap danced and screamed at the husband to killitkillitkillit. And seriously, if I'd known it was that big, I wouldn't have slept tonight. That thing could take down a small baby, WHICH I HAVE.