Four Hours of Sleep and All the Animals Are Acting Crazy

So just now? As in, just moments ago?

I totally walked into the bathroom, in the dark, and I flipped the light switch on, and there, on the tiles of my bathroom floor, I beheld what I thought was a small woodland creature.

Only listen, people. A woodland creature it was not, BECAUSE IT WAS TOTALLY A GIGANTIC WOLF SPIDER!

Naturally, I did what any sane woman would do.

I screamed.

Oh, not loudly. I didn’t scream loudly, like someone would do if her husband had hidden in the backseat of the truck in the parking lot while she was at the movie theater, and then had suddenly popped out of the backseat, after she and her friend got into the truck, and asked why? Why on earth didn’t she check the backseat before piling in, because HELLO! McFLY!! There might very well be a bad guy hiding there!

Thank you for that, Hubs. Eleven years later, and Nicky and I are still shivering with fright over that one.

And, yes. Yes I did scream loud and hard and furious when Hubs popped up from the backseat, in the dark, and made the premeditated decision to scare the snot right out of me and Nicky. I screamed so badly, I shattered the wedding crystal in the jewelry store five blocks down the street, and Hubs sat me down for a lecture which started by him saying, “When a stranger pops up out of your backseat, you don’t just sit there and scream and wet yourself! You either fight him off and poke his eyeballs out, or you get out of the vehicle and run!” and finished by him saying, “I am so sorry that I scared you that badly, and I hope that our ER bill for the paddles on your failing heart doesn’t turn out to be horridly expensive.”

Tonight, only a medium-sized scream escaped my vocal cords, as I stared at the eight-legged beast on my bathroom floor. The boy, bless his heart, was the first one to run to my rescue, and he hollered out, “What?! What, Mom?! What is wrong!” I shouted back, “There is a giant wolf spider on my bathroom floor!” To this, the boy stopped short and yelled to his dad that he should COME! COME QUICK! MOM IS ABOUT TO LOSE AN APPENDAGE TO AN EVIL SPIDER, AND THIS IS REALLY MORE OF A JOB FOR YOU, DAD, BECAUSE I AM JUST SMALL AND JUST TEN!”

Hubs, naturally, took his time sauntering into the bathroom, where he took one look at the spider and said, “Wow! I expected it to be nothing but a dot of a spider, because I know how you tend to overreact, but this fellow is actually decently sized.” And then Hubs turned around, walked out of the bathroom, and said, “Good luck with that.”


I swung my leg out at the beast, trying to kick the squirrel-sized thing down, but I missed completely, which was probably due to the subconscious fact that I didn’t want any part of my body coming into contact with any part of his eight-legged body.

A few seconds later, Hubs returned with a rolled-up magazine, and blam!

The spider zipped beneath the baseboard.

And he totally disappeared.

And THAT little fact set both the boy and I off, because hello! He is still alive, and I know to the depth of my being that he is going to crawl out from beneath the baseboard about 2:00 this morning, climb up my comforter, and wrap me in a spider web for breakfast while I sleep.

Clearly, I’m going to rest peacefully tonight. I’ll be sitting up in bed all night with a flashlight and a shotgun.

Oh, and the shotgun? Yeah. I’ve never even held one of those before, so the spider killing may be a bit of a show.

I’m not sure what it is with the wild animals, but they seem to be putting on a full display of the crazies today.

This afternoon, when I was heading to the boy’s school to pick him up, a chipmunk jumped off the sidewalk and ran right in front of my Suburban. I smacked the brake, pretty much slammed the grill of my vehicle into the asphalt, and held my breath until I saw the little guy dash across the street towards the OTHER sidewalk. I was quite relieved that I HAD! NOT! SMUCKED! HIM! and I pressed the gas pedal so that I could continue on my merry way. At that precise time, the little fellow decide that, what the heck? He’d just spin around, right there in the street, and run back in the same direction from whence he came.

So I almost ran over him a second time.

He ran for a couple of feet, right there in the street, proving that he’d used up another one of his lucky lives by cheating death a second time, and that is when he decide to JUST LAY ON HIS SIDE AND ROLL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET, PEOPLE! Oh, yes. He rolled! On. His. Side. He rolled like his fur coat was on fire, and he was doing his darnedest to put it out. I decided that he was either suffering a full-on stroke or a fear-induced seizure, and I was half-tempted to get out of the Suburban and slap his little cheeks until he snapped out of it, but then he popped back up on all fours, and he finished running to the safety of the sidewalk.

I sat perfectly still in my Suburban, holding up traffic, I’m sure, waiting to see if he had another Death Wish in him, or if he was, indeed, finished. He made the right decision, raced about twenty feet up the sidewalk, and then disappeared into someone’s flowerbed.

Part of my problem tonight may be that the sleep and I were not well acquainted last night, because I hosted a little dinner party for eight girls, and it went on until it was almost the next day.

Oh yes, it did!

I think that Missi summed it up best when she told me this morning, “I laughed so hard last night, my face had cramps in it.” Mmm-hmm. Mine, too.

Seven of my girlfriends joined me for dinner around my dining room table, and we ate food that made Hubs raise his eyebrows and ask where the meat was. I think we all know Hubs well enough to realize that he considers vegetables and legumes to be something THAT HIS FOOD EATS before it lands on his grill. Hubs and the vegetarian tacos are not close.

Hubs likes a cow shoved into the middle of the tortilla, that’s fully covered in cheese and hot sauce.

The girls and I all laughed so hard and carried on for so long, we apparently drowned out the Monday Night Football game in the family room in the basement, where Hubs was hiding, so he sent me a text which said, “I am at PH’s house, watching the game.”

A text message which I found on my phone a full two hours after Hubs had sent it, and we had no idea that he’d jumped ship and abandoned us. We simply hadn’t noticed that he was missing.

I’m so glad that his friend PH had a sofa cushion for Hubs to sit on and a cold beverage for Hubs to hold in his hand, while they watched the football game together.

Where it was quiet.

Back at our house, the laughter was going on and on and on, and if there is one thing I learned last night, it’s this:

Stephanie V. has a nanny, and I now have Nanny Envy, because listen, people. Stephanie teaches music class at the boy’s elementary school, so she has been back to work for just two full weeks now. In that two-week time frame, her nanny has not only watched the babies and educated their little minds by reading stories to them and engaging them in art activities, she has totally cleaned out and organized the three babies’ closets. She has taken out clothes that don’t fit any more and folded them nicely into bags for Stephanie V. to get rid of. She has organized Stephanie’s pantry and taken out cans of expired food. She has scrubbed out and organized all of her kitchen cabinets and her bathroom cabinets, and she has made the entire house look as though Mary Poppins was there, because this nanny’s hobby is CLEANING. And also organizing.

Hubs had the misfortune of coming into the kitchen at the tail end of our dinner party, when it was really more of a just-hanging-out-in-the-kitchen-with-all-the-empty-wine-bottles sort of party, and I announced, “Hubs, I would like to hire a nanny, and I want the very same nanny that Stephanie V. has!”

Hubs’s enthusiasm for this was not as high as mine, as he looked at it logically.

We have one child. One child who is actually in school all day. One child who can potty himself, and dress himself, and make his own bed, and entertain himself. I work part-time. In fact, there are more hours of the week when I am not working than there are when I am working. And we are just-burn-the-money-in-the-fireplace-because-we-have-so-much-of-it rich.

Hubs is such a buzz killer.

So I went to bed this morning (because the dinner party LASTED! THAT! LONG!), and I laid there, completely unable to sleep, and I longed to have a nanny who would come into my home and organize my kitchen cabinets. And the boy’s closet. And the boy’s bookcase. And my closet. And do my laundry. I did, in fact, make out an entire lengthy work list in my head for my future imaginary nanny.

And also? If there’s one other thing that I learned last night, it’s this, people: If you don’t personally know seven girls who will come over to your house for dinner and stay until the following day (ALMOST!) and make you laugh until your face muscles are contorted and sore the next morning, then perhaps you should look around on Craig’s List until you can find some, because goodness!

Girls like that are such a genuine blessing!

We discussed everything last night from coveted nannies to gas.

And I don’t mean the kind that you put in your Suburban for $2.75 per gallon.

And now?

Well, Hubs just walked into our home office here with a gallon-sized, glass jar. And in that jar, taking up MORE THAN HALF OF IT, was the spider.

I love that man. Even if he declines my requests for a nanny-organizer and thinks that my pack of girlfriends is too loud to hear the football game over, I still love him.

And I shall call him Hubs, the Spider Slayer.

And I shall go to bed early tonight and sleep in peace.

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