I was toiling away at work last week when my wife texted me a photo of the spider she had just killed, calling it a “tarantula.”  Upon seeing the carcass and assorted gooey insides laying next to it, I could only surmise that the battle went down something like this:

My wife doing battle with a giant-ass arachnid.

Thank goodness she was there to take of that beastie. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to tell you that I would probably have been cowering in the corner of the kitchen having slammed the door wall shut.  I mean, the thing on the camera certainly looked like a harbinger of the End of Days–just ask my sister-in-law who also saw the godforsaken thing and belt out a virtual scream.

But hey, every family needs its hero at the right moment.  Thanks babe!

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