…that was so #*$&@# big, I probably could have handed itÂ a bottle of nail polish and asked it to give me a foot massage and a pedicure.
Tuesday night I was inspired to paint my naked toenails, which have been exposed far too long this spring, especially after reading this hilarious post while cruising the blogosphere. (My favorite line is, “there is no fiesta happening at the ends of my fingers. Just short, weak sadness.”)
I hunkered down in the bedroom, bright red nail polish in hand, and glanced over at our nifty ionic air purifier that the manny (aka my dad) purchased for us about a month ago to help rid our house of the various allergens keeping us in the allergy/cold aisle at our friendly neighborhood Walgreens.
Something black near the base of the air purifier caught my eye.
I saw a black spider on the hardwood floor.
This was the queen mother of all spiders.
The holy mother of spiders.
The big mama jama of spiders.
I’ve never seen a spider that big IN ALL MY 37 YEARS OF LIFE ON THIS PLANET.
I did a little research today and I think it was a trapdoor spiderÂ or perhaps a tarantula escaped from the local zoo. I have no idea. I didn’tÂ getÂ close enoughÂ to examine it.
I scurried barefoot down the hall as fast I could without making too much noise
screaming in horror and waking the girls.
“HUBBY, I NEED YOU. I NEED YOU IN OUR BEDROOM NOW!!”
Unfortunately for the hubby, it was not passion that sent me straight to his waiting arms, but the comfort in knowing he would flush the spider down the toilet.