I hate spiders.
Like, turn into an angry rage monster on a murder spree when I see them in my apartment.
If I’m outside and I see one, fine. Your house, your rules. But I do not recall ever inviting one of you into my home.
So when I see you, you are fair game. And I may use every tool at my disposal including, but not limited to, shampoo bottles, soap dispensers, flip flops, Arabic text books, vacuum cleaners, chemically based pesticides, water, or newspapers, to discourage you, and your creepy relatives, from ever entering my home again.
Unless you are a chocolate spider. Continue reading