I don't really feel like I need to add anything to that statement for emphasis except to say that I am absolutely not exaggerating and I'm thisclose to grabbing a clean set of underwear, my copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting, and my Tums and moving the heck out.
With my spider killing husband, of course. And Lupe. Does this look like a creature that can fend for herself?
At least when the Medical Examiner comes to retreive my spider-bite-ridden corpse from my home, he/she will have a pretty, un-pink bathroom to gaze upon. Pictures coming soon.