I generally pride myself on *not* being a sniveling girl. I used to train muay thai and a little jiujitsu. I like snakes, lizards, sharks, and rampaging stallions. When not shaped like a planetoid, I love to climb trees and boulders and be all sorts of tomboy.
But this morning, I totally lost my cool girl cred.
Because I woke my husband up screaming like a little girl.
Because there was a 3-inch diameter wolf spider running up my velour pajama pants.
Which I then beat to death with a toddler bicycle helmet in front of my slightly confused toddler.
Now, I know perfectly well that this is a harmless, even beneficial spider. I am sitting 4 feet from the fireplace, and I suspect that the flue isn't quite closed all the way. It's fall, and windy, and the most obvious place in the world for a big ol' spider to go would be to the warm indoors. I know that there are only two venomous spiders in Georgia, and that they are both teeny tiny and reclusive. Especially the Brown Recluse.
But I just couldn't stop myself from jumping up and down and screaming. Because, honestly, it was 7am, and I hadn't had coffee yet, and I don't have very good eyesight, and it was really really hauling ass up my leg.
So, yeah, today... i'm a sniveling girl. And an arachnicidal maniac.
But at least that is balanced out by the fact that I made horrible coffee, shrunk Dr. Crog's new sweater to a Junior size 5, did the worst ironing job possible on his nice work pants, and generally sucked as a housewife this morning. So maybe I kept a little bit of tomboy, right?