Spiders, Why Did it Have to Be Spiders?

This morning, I caught sight of a spider hanging out in the corner of the shower. It was waving it's little forelegs as if to say, "Yeah, I'm a spider. So what? You wanna fight about it?"

I hate spiders in the shower.

About 14 years ago, I was minding my own business, taking a shower. I had just finished rinsing the shampoo out of my hair and had opened my eyes. I saw spots in my vision. Things are a little blurry without my glasses, so I didn't really make anything out of the spots. I figured I had rubbed my eyes too vigorously to get the water out.

That was, until I noticed the spots were moving down slowly. One was right in front of my face. I took a closer look and noticed that it was a tiny little baby spider. That meant, you guessed it, that all the other spots were the same thing. They were all around me.

I freaked out.

I hopped out of the shower as fast as I could and sprayed those suckers down the drain. Yeah, they were just baby spiders, probably couldn't even hurt a fly, yet, but they were all over. I had been well-taught of the dangers of spiders from a particularly horrible scene in Something Wicked This Way Comes and the entire movie Arachnaphobia. Them spiders had to die.

And so did this morning's shower visitor. I accepted his challenge, and promptly washed him down the drain. Of course, I'm sure his spidery family will get revenge on me by crawling into my mouth while I'm sleeping.