The only good spider is a dead spider. And they're not that good.

How much do I hate spiders? I'll tell you how much I hate spiders.

We have a cold room (i.e. pantry) in the basement, stocked with food we buy on sale. We have enough boxes of cereal in there to feed a small army. This is also where we keep the pop and beer to keep it cold, even in the summer.

A few days ago Gail went grocery shopping. When she returned, she put a bunch of stuff in a cardboard box so we (that is to say I) could bring it all down to the cold room at once. I brought the box downstairs and was about to open the door to the cold room when I saw a spider on the floor. It was about an inch and a half wide – not huge, but not tiny either. I put the box of food down on the spider and moved it around to make sure it was good and squished. Then I saw another spider on the wall. The door to the cold room is off of the workshop, and I keep a pair of slippers in there in case I'm working with wood – I don't want to drag the sawdust around the house on my socks. I grabbed a slipper, squashed the second spider, put the slipper back down and walked back upstairs.

Three days later, the box of food is still sitting on the floor outside the door of the cold room because I don't want to look at what's underneath it.