Go Get Your Curds and Whey dammit!

I was tidying up before going to bed, putting grocery bags into my handy dandy grocery bag holder when I saw this:

Now, I am not a girly girl, frightened by spiders and other creepy crawlies requiring rescue by some brave, strapping man. Good thing, as I am fresh out at 12:15 am. I'm not one to even react to such sights other than a mild "My, what a large arachnid." But when you are going about your own business, way early in the morning after being droned into a stupor by a presidential "town hall" and the ensuing critiques, your reaction is more along the lines of a loud and prolonged "F*******ck!" accompanied by your rendition of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies. See if you don't.

After I regained my composure, I found two empty Play-doh containers, jostled Charlotte into them and chucked her outside. I know, it ensured her death just as if I had gotten a paper towel and crushed her body into dust, but this way I avoided the sickening crunch that would occur. Besides, it's a well known fact that hypothermia (after the initial freezing your keister off part) is a much gentler death than being squished. Call me a humanitarian.