Just the WORST

I like to think that I have really grown.
I've matured. I'm smarter. I'm stronger than I used to be.
But I'm still learning things about myself every day. Today I learned that I still scream bloody murder whenever I see a spider.
Ok, let's just get one thing clear. I'm not talking about those tiny little guys. I'm talking about the spider overlords. The spiders that haunt your nightmares. The mythical spiders from Harry Potter that, apparently, live in my basement.
I know that it's my own fault. When I was little, I used to put my dresser corner-wise so I could throw everything behind there. When it filled up, I'd just rearrange my room and start the junk corner in a new spot. Now that I have my own house, and especially since I'm married to a fellow hoarder, we have an entire junk basement. Today I decided I was tired of tripping over that mess of a basement, so I bought some storage totes and went work.
Now, two hours later, the totes are still sitting here empty. The basement looks even worse than before, because I found so many spiders.
The silver lining? Turns out early August must be a good time to do something like this, because most of the spiders are dead. But don't misunderstand. When I say most, I mean most of the spiders in the world are dead, in my basement, right this moment.
More specifically, in my vacuum. Along with a couple of live ones. (Side note: Does vacuuming up a spider kill it? Or does it live through the tornado and crawl out and come find you to plot it's revenge? These are the things I worry about.)
I don't want to give anyone else nightmares, but since that's all I'm going to be having tonight: I am not exaggerating when I say I bet I saw over 500 spiders in my tiny little basement tonight.
And I didn't take it like man. I screamed so loud and so much that I was starting to worry the neighbors would call the cops. (And actually, I'm a little offended that they didn't. Are they really not concerned that I sounded like I was being murdered?) I screamed so much that my throat really hurts.
And there are more.
One of them got away from me, and he knows where I sleep.
I like to think I've grown up. That I'm a tough girl who can hold her own.
But I don't know. I am sitting on my feet right now, just in case any followed me upstairs. This feels an awful lot like I'm five again.