Looks That Kill

Before I split with M's dad I thought about every aspect of life I could think of and how life would change. Like would I have enough money, would I have enough time, would I meet someone else, did I owe it to M's dad to stay because of what I've been through, and on and on and on. The one thing I missed that may seem like a trivial thing, however, was I have always had somebody around to kill spiders for me. My parents, my roommates, neighbors, and M's dad. I have to kill my own spiders now!
I've had to toughen up quite a bit with owning a house by myself. My house was built on a lot that up until last summer was somebody's garden so I have LOTS of spiders. Not just daddy long legs and little itty bitty spiders but big, fat, nasty, hairy spiders that are like the size of a small car. OK, the size of a half dollar but still...
The other night I saw one of those big, fat, nasty, hairy spiders in my bedroom up in that space where the wall meets the ceiling that is really too high for me to reach anyway. I went away and came back to see that the big, fat, nasty, hairy spider had moved to over the bed. As I sat downstairs contemplating what to do, cowboy called. I'm talking to cowboy and mention that I saw one of these big, fat, nasty, hairy spiders in my bedroom. He apparently knows me fairly well already because he said "You're thinking about sleeping downstairs aren't you?"
Um, yeah...seemed like a decent idea. He says just go kill it. You won't know unless you try. Just get it over with. But I have to wait for it to move because if I miss and it drops, it will drop onto the bed. So not cool.
But fair enough. I go back upstairs, gather the paper towels, get the step stool, and go back to my room. The big, fat, nasty, hairy spider has moved to another wall and is now on a flat surface where with the step stool I can reach and get him. So I stand there, and I stand there, and I move the laundry basket so in case the big, fat, nasty, hairy spider drops it won't drop into my clean clothes. I stand there, and I stand there and decide I should really brush my teeth and take my make up off. When I'm done the big, fat, nasty, hairy spider is still there. I stand there, and I stand there, and I stand there a little bit longer. If cowboy lived closer I would consider calling him to come kill it for me. That's not an option, so I stand there and I stand there and I stand there for just a little bit longer and then I go for it. I got it in the six layers of paper towels and just to make sure I really got it, I squished the paper towels flat against the bathroom counter with my entire body weight.
DEAD SPIDER!!!