Have I ever mentioned my feelings on spiders?

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod

*flails*

So I am about to go to bed, and about to turn off the light, when a ginormous spider shoots out of a sheet I have on the ground for the dog. I boldly grab a shoe and crush it. I am amused to note that right next to it is a wee tiny small spider. Not being one to suffer the little arachnids any more than the big ones, I smish it as well. Then I scrape up the quarter-sized giant arachnid carcass and go to throw it away. When I get back to my room, I'm about to turn out the light again when I look down at the floor, and notice that I seem to have spilled dark beads all over the sheet for the dog. Moving dark beads.

Baby spiders. The whole sheet [twin size, mind you] is teeming, teeeeming with miniature arachnids, all about the size of a seed bead. One spider I can handle. Two, sure. Thousands and thousands and thousands? Nope.

I must confess, I lost it just a bit. And by "just a bit" I mean "I ran and got Mom, wringing my hands and chanting "ohgodohgodohgod" over and over, and was generally useless in the ensuing battle." Normally I can handle bugs. But this... gah.

And I'm not sure if we got all of them in the ensuing bit of spider genocide. We found some more about ten minutes after we threw the sheet outside. So now, for the whole night, I get to imagine troupes of tiny spiders, pouring up the posts of my bed, teeming over my skin, eager for revenge for the loss of their tiny spider brethren.

Oh, god oh god. I'm going to be flailing all night.