It's Definitely Not Charlotte's Web Up In Here

I think there is a small miniature sign, like a neon beacon, calling all spiders and their insect brethren into my house. I'm not kidding, there's something that says, "This house LOVES creepy crawlers. No reservations needed, immediate occupancy."

I, in no way, love creepy crawlies. Or slimy, scaly, slithery, long tailed, or talon-y  feet creatures. In short, I'm a complete and utter girl when it comes to these things. I reserve the right, even in this day and age of gender equality, to expect my husband to be the spider hit man. He can be the one to chase them down, paper towel in hand, because if I do, and it's one of those creepy jumping spiders (or hell, if it even moves a fraction of a centimeter), I'm going to issue forth a blood curdling scream so loud that the neighbors will start to think either Ike and Tina moved in or there's a murder going on.

Worse, my husband will tell me I'm over reacting.

Over reacting? I think not. Have you seen these things? There are about 4 legs too many. And the fact that they can spin a sticky web substance to trap their victims just creeps me right the hell out. Yes, I do realize their victims are all the other bugs that I also cannot tolerate, but still, they're like the serial killers of the insect world.

And why, for the love of God, do they want to come inside? Okay, in the winter they want a warm place, but it's summer. Aren't there insect puddle parties and fly-b-ques to go to? Aren't you looking for other creepy crawlies to hang out with? Because if you think they're in my house, well, let's just say this is where insects come to die. (That sounded very mafia boss, didn't it?) I have a plethora of flip flops and paper towels on hand for just the occasion. I can find the fly swatter at any given time. Blindfolded. Of course, this is only should hubby not be available to perform his manly "Killer of All Things With More Than 6 Legs" duties. In the absence of my husband, I will revert to my cave woman "fight or flight" instincts and squish that thing harder than it's ever been squished. Because the alternative is that later, perhaps while I'm sleeping, said creeper will find its way back to me when I'm helpless and REM'ing. Not cool, bro, not cool.

Maybe if the spiders were like Charlotte, I could reason with them.

"Listen, don't you have any pigs that you need to save from butchering?"
"Uh, we live in the suburbs."
"Oh yeah. Don't you have children you need to spawn in the wide, open spaces of the country?"
"I'm a dude."
"Oh. Is today a good day for you to die then?"

(This is what spiders look like in my mind.)