More Than Cringe Worthy

So you know those episodes in life that are so awful and terrifying that they singe themselves into your memory never to be extracted? I feel like I've been having those with alarming frequency as of late. My fragile nerves can't take much more of these horrific experiences. Take this episode for example:
This happened a few weeks ago, but I refained from posting about it because I didn't want to relive it.  Ya. It was that bad. But with the passage of time, I can recount it without having a nervous breakdown...so here it is.
I decided to be an idiot and fry myself almost beyond recognition because I thought I was impervious to the sun, and applied NO sunscreen on a particularly cloudy day at La Jolla Shores (no...this is not the bad part even though it REALLY sucked). I spent days laid out with about an inch of aloe covering my entire body, wth cool towels soaked in DAG covering my legs and shoulders (if you know anything about my family, you'll know what DAG is and are probably, and unfortunately, very familiar with its smell...for the rest of you, the best explanation I can give is that it's the Elmer Jesperson "cure all" for whatever ails you). On one of these particular nights, I dragged my aching, burning body to bed at an earlier time than usual. As such, the husband did not join me. He decided to watch "Ridiculousness" instead. Anyways, I flopped into bed without even turning the light on, and tried to fall asleep. After about ten minutes, my body informed me, quite vehemently, that it was in need of another layer of aloe. I swear it was on fire. So, I rolled over toward my bedside table, groaning the whole time, and reached for the bottle. Then, I stretched my arm up, turned on the light, and slathered myself in more aloe. With a fresh layer applied, I rolled back over, returned the bottle to the table, and saw...nestled in the corner, about an inch from my hand, THE MOST MASSIVE BLACK WIDOW I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE.
My BIGGEST fear in the world (besides the dentist) is of the arachnid variety. I hate their ugly skinny legs, and their big fat bodies. Ugh! Gross!
I screamed. And then started to hyperventillate and cry at the same time. My poor, hurting body launched itself up out of bed, and huddled in the corner. Of course my boy was nowhere to be found because he was inside the house watching his show. Stupid Rob Dyrdek. I was too afraid to go inside for fear that the awful creature would skitter away if I took my eyes off of it for a second, and I was NOT about to kill it myself. What to do? So, I did the only logical thing I could: I whipped out my cell phone and called my hero to come slay the beast!
Graham to the rescue!

And do you want to know my "warrior's" response to my plea?

"Whit...I feel bad killing it. What did he ever to do me?"

Are you kidding me?
He existed, that's what he did!
Reluctantly, he killed the little creature.
Of course I could NOT sleep in my bed that night. What if he had friends? Or babies? Uh uh...no way. So, I slept on the couch.
And you better believe that I no longer get into bed without turning on the lights and doing a thorough inspection of the vicinity. I am NOT about to go through that again.