If I'm not back soon, call Animal Control

Or David Arquette.

Or Jeff Daniels.

Because I need to go up into the attic, and I know with absolute certainty that there is some sort of freaky, giant, woman-eating spider that is going to get me.

And I don't know how to turn the light on up there.

Because we all know that turning the lights on keeps the bad things away.

Just like keeping your arms and legs on the bed and under the covers keeps the monsters that live under your bed from being able to get you.

And yes, I do realize that I'm 30 years old, and not, you know, 8, but I've been sleeping next to a pile of laundry instead of a man for the past five and a half months, so I am understandably twitchy about things that go bump in the night.

And things that build webs in the attic.

However, the man who belongs in my bed will not be back for another two weeks, and my children can not wait that long to decorate for Christmas. We absolutely must decorate thisverysecondrightnowpleasepleaseplease.

And so I am heroically making this sacrifice for my children.

I'm goin' up.