I. Hate. Spiders.

I was dashing out the door to my first lesson of the afternoon when my eye fell on the night table. I think I was trying to see the time, but then lo and behold, I see a brown shape (as my darling sister pointed out in HER blog post today, I am perpetually late. I have the best intentions to be on time, but when it comes right down to it, I won't want to spend any more time at work than I possibly have to. So why show up five minutes early when I can be there exactly at 3:30? ;).

Horrors.

I scoot around the bed and yes, it is indeed a two-toned, slightly furry looking brown spider, its long longs a little reminiscent of a daddy long-legs. But it's much less friendly looking.

I. Hate. Spiders.

Now I realize that most of them are probably just as scared of me as I am of them, yada yada yada, but they're creepy looking. I attempt to scoot the thing onto a bookmark (I don't like spiders and yet I'm trying to help this one live? What's wrong with me?). The thing with eight legs panics, jumps onto the bed (MY side of the bed - this is when I scream), and shimmies along the wall to the other side. Drew, who's in the shower, hears me scream and gets worried. Maybe I'm being mugged? Meanwhile, I'm busy bellowing for the cats (they love anything small that moves). While Tuppers and Trix stare bewildered at the floor where brown spider is managing to blend in perfectly with the brown floor, I manage to trap it underneath a glass candle holder. At this point, Drew's out of the shower, wondering in typical guy fashion why I simply didn't smush the thing with my sandal? Not an option, I say.

I make it to my lesson, only a mere three minutes late.