Spiders or Why I Am a Nervous Wreck and Fear Walking in My House in the Dark

I hate spiders. I'm sorry, I didn't say that loudly enough: I HATE SPIDERS.

I am not alone in my loathing. JRR Tolkien is obviously no a fan of the repugnant beasts. He prominently features them as ruthless, horrid fiends in both The Hobbit and The Return of the King. If I may quote from a source (that I cannot currently cite), "Spiders are like little pieces of death wrapped in scary."

Several nights ago I could not sleep, so I went downstairs at 3:00am to catch up on the news with FOX. As I lay on the couch, I saw what appeared to be a piece of trash on the floor. That didn't seem possible as I wouldn't have gone to bed without having seen it. Now, did that piece of trash just move a little?
Getting up to investigate, I feared the worst. I turned on the lights my greatest phobia was realized. It was a spider the size of a small pack animal. After suppressing my initial squeal reaction, and at the same time deciding my dear sleeping husband would NEVER understand why I was waking him to kill, what he would equate with a bothersome gnat, I knew I would have to save myself.

The alpaca sized creature could not be conquered with a paper towel. Chemicals in aerosol form would definitely be needed. I found a can of demon annihilation spray and attacked. It ran-fast. It scurried under a low table and I now have an ANGRY spider, that I cannot see, on the loose.

I wait. Spray is in hand, for the leviathan WILL show himself again.
It did and I commenced with the chemical warfare. Showing no signs of weakening he went back under the table. All I can think is: if I lie down that thing is going to track me down and smother me with his weight.

I wait. Again he emerges and the spray assault and retreat battle continues for fifteen more minutes. At long last he is no more, but I am not unscathed. He was able to inflict psychological trauma and the scars will not be pretty.

I. hate. spiders.