Who needs a giggle? I certainly do so I’ll laugh along while I tell you my funny story.

I abruptly awoke at 2:24 a.m. on Tuesday to feel something small walking on my arm. Ticks are bad here so I was convinced that it was one of those blood sucking little jerks traipsing across my forearm.

In my sleep haze, I fumbled to locate my cell phone on the nightstand, lit it up, and turned to examine the tick. Only it wasn’t a tick.

It was a spider.

Let’s stop here for a moment. 

I don’t like spiders. Some of them are creepy and scary. Others seem pretty harmless but I simply don’t like them. They’re fine outside and from afar but unwelcome in my home.

If this incident happened at two in the afternoon, my reaction would have been much gentler. I probably would have carried the little guy outside, left him under a shrub, and explained to him that my home is not an appropriate place for him. 

But I was sound asleep when this incident occurred and my reaction was not at all gentle. Instead, I did what every self respecting independent, brave and resourceful single gal would do in the face of a spider no bigger than a nickel.

I screamed like a little girl.

Then I used my left hand to knock the spider off my arm. Unfortunately, I was still holding my cell phone so when I flicked the spider I somehow sent my phone soaring across the bedroom and onto the floor. 

This, friends, is why we invest in the shockproof case. 

I jumped out of bed, turned on the light, and realized I had lost the spider. 

By this point, Scout was sitting up in bed, blinking his tired little eyes in confusion while I pulled at the blankets in search of the spider that moments before I couldn’t get rid of quickly enough. 

I did find the spider, the poor little soul. Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed a paperback copy of “Flowers For Algernon” off the nightstand and crushed him. Then I flushed the corpse for good measure

And I immediately felt guilty.

First of all, I try not to kill things and am happiest when I can save a life. 

Plus, over the weekend, I reread E.B. White’s classic children’s tale “Charlotte’s Webb.” Remember Wilbur the pig and his little spider friend Charlotte? 

All I could think of was Charlotte and how this little spider probably thought I was his roommate and friend or something. I just smashed him. 

In case you’re wondering, I am aware that I sound like a lunatic. No need to tell me. 

So ends the sad tale of the nameless spider who paid the ultimate price for trespassing on my arm. I never made it back to sleep that night and Scout still seems perplexed as to why I was waking us all up in the middle of the night for no reason at all. 

That’s his job after all.