Yesterday morning from another room I heard “Whoa!!” followed by a quick succession of “What the?”, “Argh!” & “Dang!”
I called out, “What is it?!”
I heard back “Never mind!”
At this point my excellent deductive reasoning capabilities kick in and I know it’s something sinister…that only means one thing in this house. Spider.
Now I want to know “when, what, where, how big?” followed by the fact that its little arachnid existence has been summarily brought to demise.
“How big was it?”
“Big enough.”
“Where was it?”
“Running under the bathroom closet door.”
“But dead now, right?”
*long silent pause*
“Um…*DEAD* now, right????”
*deafening silence*
“Hey, did you kill that thing or what!?”
So here’s the deal. My mighty spider hunter consented to haul all the crap out of the closet floor area and kill that thing before it finds a hunky virile boyfriend, stalks me, finds me, bites me from my toes up to my neck, crawls into my ear, nests, does a spidey booty call and gets knocked up and lays eggs in there.
(Don’t hassle me…it can happen! I’ve seen it in a movie! I’m almost sure of it).
I go off to the salt mine leaving my hunk of manly protector to find the offender and dispense some immediate justice.
Late afternoon on my drive to pick up MiniMe, I call his cell as I always do to catch up on info of the day and say I’m on my way.
“By the way, did you kill that spider?”
“What? From this morning?”
“Duh, yes!”
“You mean you were serious about pulling all that crap out of there and trying to find it?”
“You mean you weren’t?”
“No. I didn’t do it. I didn’t know you really wanted me to.”
*crickets*
All this means to me is that it has had HOURS to find a really good hiding place with an excellent vantage point for a sudden ambush.
Trying to redeem himself, my mighty hunter disassembles the closet eight hours later and finds….
Nothing.
Big surprise there.
You know what this means, right…? Somewhere in my home, and possibly near where I sleep…
*shudder*
Yeah, there won't be a picture in this blog entry!
Usually, my firearm dreams incorporate me not being able to make my firearm function. In the last dream I had awhile back that I remember, the trigger guard was completely enclosed and solid. 
Well, 13 years to the day after his acquittal for double homicide, O.J. Simpson has been convicted of kidnapping, armed robbery, and almost a dozen other charges. People are saying that he didn’t get a fair trial because the jury was all white…well 11 white, 1 hispanic… but my opinion is that he got exactly what he wanted – a jury of his peers. After all, he didn’t want much to do with his own race of people. He moved to predominantly white (and rich) Brentwood, and married a pretty blonde white girl.
