It came from the mint green lagoon...

I woke up at 8:00 am this morning.  Yes, I said 8:00.  The house was quiet and snow was falling softly outside. The Yeti slept all night long.  For those of you who don't live in the snow belt, such a precipitous event is almost impossible to describe.  Everything outside is a shade white or gray punctuated by the occasional naked tree reaching upwards.  There is no noise, only the occasional crazy asshole from New York who has to prove that they can drive their Mercedes SUV 93 MPH in inclement weather so they can get to their ski condo.  The 12 year old inside of me jumped up and down reminiscent of the hopes of a snow day.

Soooo, I went in the bedroom (yes, I sleep on the couch because Red snores worse than the child of Tyrannosaurus and a chainsaw, thank god for the magic of a CPAP mask that is arriving soon) to wake Red up.  He plows snow for the State of Vermont on our main highway, so I figured I'd get his ass out of bed before they called so he could at least shower and have some coffee.  Have I mentioned that he has literally been at work 18+ hours per day for the last two weeks and blogging is the only adult interaction I have had?  Well, about 2 minutes after I woke him, the phone rang and he flew out of the house (with shower thankfully for all involved).

Realizing that it was time for my morning poop and that the Yeti was happily bouncing in his bouncy seat, I decided to enjoy a few minutes of quiet alone time in the bathroom.  I never realized until I had a child, how much I would come to enjoy even the simple act of an uninterrupted poop.  So, as I was sitting there, I casually gazed at the horrible institutional mint green paint bequeathed to us by a former tenant, day dreaming about new decorating possibilities when I spotted this:

My sphincter instantly slammed shut.  I have a paralyzing fear of spiders.  Don't move, it may attack at random.  It was guarding the door, waiting for me to make my escape so it could sneak down and suck my brains out through my ears.  This picture does not aptly describe the size of those front legs - they were at least four feet long.  The better to remove your eyeballs and feed them to its young, my dear.  My mind flashed to this:

What would I do?  Red was gone and all my killing implements were through the portal that the vicious monster was hovering over.

It was time for me to utilize my ninja skills and sneak by this evil gatekeeper.  No sudden moves, don't even flush - it may alert the the killing machine arachnid that I have become aware of its presence and thwart it's plans to wrap me in its web and suck the fluids out of my body.  A quick wipe and I did my Navy SEAL tuck and roll out the door.  I reached for my shotgun mop and returned to the cavern of death.  I prayed that in the 30 seconds that I was gone that the spider had not teleported back to it's lair where it would wait for me to sleep and lay eggs in my nostrils, allowing it's spawn to eat my cerebral cortex.

30 points to anyone who can name this movie

I quickly dispatched the spider a la Norman Bates but with out the arterial bursts of blood spattering the walls.

Peace at last.

I would like to add that I cannot figure out where this thing was hiding.  Aside from the occasional cat hair tumbleweed and a small pile of unfolded baby clothes that I have been avoiding like a bum with a cute puppy, my house is pretty clean.  I will have to send Red on a mission to the attic to make sure it doesn't look like this: