Death By Spiderbite is So Lame

I have a healthy fear of spiders.

Two nights ago, a spider had apparently made his way through my open window and onto my curtains. Not wanting to put my hand anywhere close to his furry little, poison-filled, pincher-y things, I grabbed the nearest spray bottle I could find and aimed it at him. Aveda's Sap Moss styling spray is not going to be marketed as a spider-killer anytime soon. It did, however, alarm the spider, causing him to scramble down the wall, where another squirt of sap moss led him to the floor where I stomped him with a Jeffrey Campbell Wang boot. (Which, by the way, is a very effective spider-squisher.) I even proceeded to pick up the flattened, shriveled, spider carcass with a kleenex and toss him into my trash can. (My fear of his reincarnation during my sleep led me to immediately dispose of this trash in the outside bin.)

Last night, I was regaling my mother with tales of my courage in afore-mentioned battle vs. spider. This led to that, and soon I was thinking how much it would suck to die by spider bite in your sleep. Like, honestly, out of all the things that could possibly kill you, and all the ways you could possibly die, that has to be one of the lamest.

Unfortunately, now that this thought has crossed my mind, that is probably exactly how I am going to die... just because it's so lame and annoying.

I am now going to go skydiving, followed by an afternoon of swimming with sharks. Anyone want to go chase some lions around tonight?