I just got home from watching Godspell at Pacific Theatre (mini-review: loved it, died inside for not being able to be in that amazing cast) and some post-show hangouts to find a spider nesting above my bed. WHY OH WHY IN THE NAME OF HEAVEN DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN WHEN I'M HOME ALONE????? I have no roomies or burly men to take care of this for me! CURSES! It's times like these I think I need to get married now just to have someone to take care of all the evil insects that want to destroy my life. Because it is an ongoing problem.
I dealt with this particular insect in the only way I knew how: I vacuumed it and its little egg-nest of destruction to death. Although I've heard that vacuuming up spiders doesn't actually kill them because they're tough sons of guns, but at least I probably killed all the baby spider eggs. Although that really just means that I've just murdered the entire brood of this Mama Spider which can only mean horror, pain, and untimely death.