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I just killed a spider in the bath room. Which bums me out but also made me question my motive for killing the spider. It was a pretty interesting journey.

(Things that went through my head.)

Oh, look! A spider. It’s pretty small. Wait…is that a red hour glass on its middle!? No, no, false alarm. Wait, are those BROWN MARKINGS ON ITS LEGS?? Is that a RECLUSE? They live in this area, right? No.

Yes, yes, they do. My old roommate caught one under a glass a few years ago in our bathroom, and I went and looked at it. Because he said he captured one, and I didn’t believe him. And he totally did, and after that I was afraid I’d find another one and didn’t sleep well for several nights.

I should put it in a Kleenex and let it loose outside. That’s a great plan! That’ll make me feel good about myself, and the spider will live! I’ll feel all Buddhist and shit. Although, one of my enemies found a dying bird once that her cat attempted to kill and wrote an entry about how she couldn’t put it out of its misery even though she knew it was going to die. This spider isn’t dying though, so I’ll just be like the villains in Ruthless People. Man, I have not seen that movie since I was a kid. I should totally watch that again!

But what if it moves itself out of the Kleenex, bites me, it IS a recluse, and I die? It’s not like I can leave the bath room at this point in time, go Google it, come back, and THEN make a decision. It’ll totally be gone. Or what if it’s like Arachnophobia and its sweetheart/sugar daddy super-spider is on the underside of the toilet waiting to kill me? No, I THINK that was an urban legend, because I feel like I got that email in the 90’s. What if there are millions and they’re already multiplying and if I don’t kill this one, I’ll eventually have to burn down my house and move somewhere else?

So I killed it, but I feel bad. I feel like this is Jeff Daniels’ fault, but I also feel like if I don’t die or become injured from it, it will be *because* of that film. I guess it would be more apt to say that I’m not totally sad, I’m conflicted. I don’t know if I made the right decision or not. I mean, would it have killed me? Maybe if its spider friends made a movie about a dwarf that makes love to a giant, and they have lots of babies like many reality tv shows and slowly begin killing spiders where they live and setting their webs on fire?

That sounds creepy, but I’d probably still watch that weird, backwards movie. I’m also pretty sure this is a scene in Eight-Legged Freaks, which my husband who HATES the fact that I love spoof films loves and refuses to watch the original with me. Likely on the account of when I watched The Godfather with him and laughed at the funeral scene. This is like that poem by Billy Collins called “Why I Don’t Keep a Gun in the House.”

I just thought of the dwarf and the giant being Tyrion and Hodor from Game of Thrones, and now I’m picturing a delightful spin-off which will never happen, because I’m pretty sure every character in that entire series is going to die, not unlike the spider in my story. I said “my story,” because I didn’t want you confusing the beginning of this story for another Game of Thrones character, Varys, aka “The Spider.” And Littlefinger could be my finger!

I can’t wait for that show to come back.

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