Stomping spiders

I stomped a fat black spider to smithereens as I was mopping the kitchen floor—but it was a tiny escaped champagne grape. Foolishly, I thought: Aha! So this is how wine was invented! Obviously I need to mop the floor more often. Or drink more/less wine. And wear spectacles. Sigh! Someone asks, isn't it bad luck to kill a spider? But I was killing grapes! Besides, spiders Loooooooove me! They always want to truss me up and eat me. Right tasty. Trust me, I've been bitten by black widows, woodbine, and California’s answer to brown recluse spiders—this one looked like a crumbly version of a California recluse spider, so I stomped away like a logger at a hoedown.... my lower lip still flares up like a Zodiac raft—a decade later—from residual spider poison.

from a Facebook post