So, Saturday morning, I wake up.
Sam comes in my room and is all, "We can't find Kid C's iTouch. Can you help me?"
He looks at me, I look at him, as we do most mornings.
me: "Sure, honey."
I go downstairs and start looking while Sam looks upstairs. After a few minutes, he calls down to me. I stand at the bottom of the stairs, he is at the top, and he tells me he found the iTouch. All the while, he is looking at me.
I come back upstairs, and go to the sink to brush my teeth. As I'm putting toothpaste on my toothbrush, Sam appears behind me. I turn around, and naturally, we look at each other. He says, "I'm off to work. See ya later."
I'm all, "Okay! See ya soon!"
He leaves and I turn back around to start brushing my teeth. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And I scream.
On top of my head, nestled in my hair, is a giant brown spider.
|Hi Brodi! I love your hair.|
So, the spider and I calmly have a conversation about my split ends, and he insists I shouldn't have been able to see him because he was deeply entrenched in my dark roots.
Just kidding. There was no conversation. Unless you count my screaming and running outside, yelling for Sam.
Me: "Sam! There's a spider on my head!"
He takes one look, and I see it on his face that he has indeed seen the spider.
me: "Get it out! Get it out!"
Summoning up a buttload of courage, he digs his fingers under the spider, and flings it across the porch, along with only a few strands of my hair.
Two things bother me about this whole situation:
First - no surprise - there was a spider in my hair. Not a small spider. A giant brown spider. This has resulted in more than one dream about spider eggs being laid on my scalp. For the rest of the day, about every five minutes, I would involuntarily scream and scrape my fingers through my hair.
Second, Sam talked to me three times. Three times! Face to face. And he didn't see the spider.
Whereas, when I glanced in the mirror, it was the first thing I saw. I don't have a picture of me with the spider on my head, but I had to look something like this:
|Sam was all, "Nice hair. So I have to go to work now. See ya."|
And he didn't notice.
I'm trying to rein in my anger, but when you have a spider on your head all morning, all you can think about is that there has to be someone to blame.
And I blame Sam.
How about y'all? Anyone ever had a spider on their head?
I can tell you this much: I'll never be the same again.