By John Norberg, Humor columnist s

Wife: "There's a huge, multi-colored, hairy spider in the bathroom."

Me: "Thanks for warning me. I'll stay out of there."

Wife: "I think we're having a failure to communicate here. I was not warning you about the spider. I was alerting you so that you can do something about it."

Me: "Oh no, I understand perfectly what you're saying. And I am doing something about it. I'm staying out of the bathroom. In fact, I might move out of the house and into a motel until it's gone."

We're in the middle of summer and that means we're heading toward the time of year when spiders come out from hiding to make more spiders, which is a pretty scary thought. It means we will start to see the spiders we've been living with but didn't know about.

I've always believed ignorance is bliss.

I knew when we got married that I would be responsible for some level of home protection. I promised my new wife I would be her shinning, brave, white knight and I would go forth and slay dragons for her.

Dragons, sure. But I never made any promises concerning big, hairy, multi-colored siders. So I was somewhat surprised when I learned shortly after the honeymoon that I was the designated spider assassin in our home.

And the other day my wife found the spider to end all spiders in our bathroom.

Wife: "You're going to have to do something about that spider. Killing spiders is a man's job."

Me: "What about equal rights for women and getting rid of old, gender stereotypes. In the 21st century isn't it time for women to have equal rights in spider killing?"

Wife: "Do you want me to tell people that you made your wife kill a big, hairy, multi-colored spider because you were afraid of it?

Me: "Of course I don't want you to tell people that. I just want you to do it. Couldn't you just kill the spider and keep quiet about it?"

There are various ways to kills spiders. Some people step on them, but they can be very quick, you can miss and they might attack. Some people spray poison at them. My own preference is a double barrel shotgun.

Wife: "Just take a shoe in there and swat it. And please don't make a mess."

Great. Not only did I have to murder the spider it had to be a clean assassination.

Me: "Okay, cover me. I'm going in."

A few seconds later I came out of the bathroom.

Wife: "Is it done? Is it dead?"

Me: "I couldn't find it. Are you sure there's a spider in there?"

Wife: "I'm positive. Go back in and look for it."

Me: "Maybe I'm too old for this. Maybe we should call our son-in-law and have him come over and do it."

Wife: "You're my brave husband. I know you can do this. Now go in there and kill the spider for me."

I went in again and this time I ran back out almost immediately.

Wife: "Did you find the spider?"

Me: "Yes, it's over in the corner. But that's not a spider. It's the size of a horse with eight legs. It looks like something out of a summer blockbuster movies. Maybe we need to rethink our strategy. Maybe if we ignore it, it will just go away."

Wife: "I'm not living in this house with a big, multi-colored, hairy spider."

Me: "Maybe this would be a good time to take a vacation."

Wife: "Not until you take care of the spider."

Well, time has passed. The spider is gone and that's all I'm saying about that.

The only problem we have now is getting someone in to repair the fire and smoke damage in the bathroom.

And my wife has confiscated my blowtorch.

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