What's bugging Janel?

I kid you not, about an hour ago, I committed murder in my living room. My victim was a giant, brown, hairy, scary spider. I would have taken a picture to prove to you how big this thing was - I swear it was as big as a silver dollar pancake with big long nasty legs - but it was chasing the dog across the room and I didn't have time to get the camera. Ugh, I'm giving myself the heebie jeebies just thinking about it. But I talked myself down (literally, like, out loud, said to myself, "Dude, it's just a bug. You're seven million times heavier than this thing. Just kill it.") and grabbed one of the Bee's shoes and smooshed it. After I scared it onto the tile first, I didn't want to have to clean bug guts out of the carpet.

I've still got a nasty case of the shudders. Ick.

I broke the chair in our living room today. Well, I was the one that was sitting in it when it broke. I'd hate to think that I'm paying for all this Weight Watchers hullabaloo and still weighing enough to break furniture. Truthfully, it was a cheap chair when it was purchased four years ago and I'm kind of surprised it's lasted as long as it has - I've hauled it across the state and back again, it serves as a trampoline for Brodie after I tell him to stop jumping on the sofa or for the dog when he's in the throes of one of his "boxer blitzes." Anyway, I'm sitting here, trying to feed Baby Z when this spring apparently pops out of place and after I figure out that I have not been bit on the ass my something under the chair, I find that I'm sitting basically on the chair frame and leaning about 45 degrees to the left. Neat-o burrito, baby. So I flipped it over and thought maybe I could "fix" it - me, being as mechanically inclined as I am and all, I had visions of fishing line and duct tape and a MacGuyver-like scheme to hold that spring back in place - but when I got up in the innards I saw there is no fixing to be done; it's toast, it's trash, it's junk. Plus, I wasn't too excited to poke my eye out on that giant piece of metal poking through the fabric - wouldn't I feel like a big horse's patooty? My butt can vouch for the velocity of a sprung spring; I've probably got a bruise. I think I'll save face (ha!) and stop playing Dr. Quinn, Furniture Fixer.

My ESP(N) is buzzing... I see furniture shopping my future. Or at least chair shopping. I doubt I can talk the Bee into purchasing multiple pieces of furniture... unless I can manage to break the sofa, too. :)