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So my over-active imagination kicked in the other night when I noticed a spider making its slow, creepy way across my bedroom ceiling. This sight appeared even more alarming due to the low light being thrown off by an illuminated clock on my nightstand, creating heinous shadows. Then, to my horror, I saw a second spider approaching him and, unbelievably, a third spider, tucked away in a corner, seemed to be observing me observing the spiders on the ceiling. Well.

Since my spouse was asleep, I knew I had to resolve this dilemma myself by immediately checking into a hotel. Well, no. That’s what I would like to have done but I decided to be a big girl and pull the covers over my head and hope I lived until morning.

Since this event occurred during our recent heat wave, sleeping under several pounds of blankets wasn’t a particularly wise decision.

That’s when I decided this would be an extremely creative way of doing away with somebody. Yes. A crazed entomologist begins a spider-breeding program where each successive litter (litter?) of spiders becomes more aggressive and poisonous.

Then, one hot, summer night, the crazed killer unleashes aforesaid spiders through the open window of the victim and by morning all that would be left was a seriously pock-marked deceased person curled into a fetal position. The weapon? Yep. Crawled back into the woodwork to await their next victim. It’s the perfect murder.

Needless to say, I survived the Night of the Spiders. The next morning they had vacated the ceiling area and were most probably in the Arthropod War Room strategizing their next move.

All that lurking spiders excitement led to the cleaning out of my closet the next day, and yes, that makes no sense, but I’m just logical like that. At least getting rid of superfluous items would give random spiders less room to hide. However, I hadn’t anticipated finding the Mystery Mound of Compressed Powder substance at the back of my closet.

Ah. Another perfect crime! As I investigated this substance by releasing it from its plastic bag, I realized that here could be another rational choice of murder weapon. Now I’m no chemist but it doesn’t seem like a stretch to have one of those mad scientist types concoct a lethal dose of nerve gas reduced to powder form.

Your unsuspecting victim, stumbling upon this innocuous looking bag, opens it to the elements and BAM! Deadly matter suddenly assaults aforesaid victim’s nose and air passages.

After surviving this potential deathtrap and realizing it was the dregs of some good-smelling (at least when I bought it back in approximately the Nixon administration) bath salts, I speculated why this was in the way back of my closet. Another unsolved mystery.

But it was the other day as I was using my microwave that the third and most grisly event occurred. Nuking a plate of leftover pasta for lunch, I covered the dish lightly with a piece of wax paper for splatter control. Busy pulling a fork out of the drawer, I was unprepared for the loud “CRACK” sound that came from inside the microwave.

Cautiously opening the oven door, I found a scene of utter mayhem. A particularly volatile projectile had launched from the plate all over the ceiling and walls of the oven in an oscillating sphere pattern at the impact angle of the bloodstain … er, Ragu-stain ...

Yeah. Book or no book, I probably need to get out more.

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