How I became a cold-blooded killer.

 

(source: pinterest)

    Yeah, that is me to a tee. I don't like to get my hands dirty, so I generally hire a hitman. In other news, my husband is a hitman. But that's neither here nor there. Today, I ran home to vacuum my living room. The G-man is now crawling, and therefore "lunch hour" is now "vacuum the shiz out of my living room hour." When I got home, I went to the back door, as always. I never bring my front door key with me unless I need it. So then, there was this GIANT SPIDER on the door handle. ON THE DOOR HANDLE, PEOPLE. That is about the time when I freaked out. This mothersucker was disgusting. He was the size of my thumbnail, and I have quite long nail beds. He had those two extra long legs protruding from the front of his body, totally ready to jump and kill me. I called my spider hitman, and that genius told me hit him with my shoe. To which, I responded, "Are you on crack right now?" He then suggested to spray him with the hose. We have one of those gun-type hoses, that sprays harder the harder you squeeze. I sprayed that biatch. The spider disappeared so I sprayed EVERYWHERE. Seriously, my back door is spotless. I got really into it, too. "Die, die, die, die!!!!!" My neighbors may think I'm crazy, but I'm okay with that. He was gone, but where to?! Well, I opened the door, very cautiously. There, in the middle of the ocean that was once my tile mud area, was the corpse of the 8-legged demon that turned me into a cold-blooded killer.

actual photo, slight dramatization.

Let that be a warning to all of you spiders out there. You may have 8 jumping legs and like a million eyes, but I have a REALLY badass hose.