I hate spiders.<br><br>I've always worn loose PJ bottoms to bed. I love them. They're soft. They're loose. They're comfy. Okay. Well there was this -huge- wolf spider that skittered across the kitchen floor. My old dog, Chance, tried to get him, but Chance is old and doesn't do much but lay around. So I sit on the living room floor and drink my milk. And I feel something skitter against the bottom of my leg. I quickly pinch the moving thing, and go into the bathroom to immediately strip myself of my PJ bottoms. It was the big freeking wolf spider that I had squished by my thigh. <br><br>"Well. Spiders dead."<br>"Oh yeah? Who got him?"<br>"Me. He crawled up my pants!"<br><br>Which then proceeds to send my parents into fits of laughter. I'm sorry, I don't find that funny considering I'm sitting here shaking about to vacuum my room [and my PJ bottoms... after I wash and sterilize them, of course]. I hate spiders. They creep me out. They crawl into my bed at night. I saw a black widow and had nightmares about them being under my pillow. They crawl on my walls and come in attached to the dogs...<br><br>-shudders-
"I am carrying all my hatred and contempt for power, its laws, its authority, its society, and I have no room for guilt or fear of punishment."-Diego Rios
Semper Fi.
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Semper Fi.
Semper Fi.