Spiders ate my whore pills.

The other night, as Nutty Hubby and I were getting ready for bed, I fished my daily birth control pill out of the pack and was just about to pop it in my mouth when it just up and slipped from my fingers. I heard it bounce once on the hardwood floor, and then there was silence.

Motherfucker.

It had been a long enough day already. I really wasn’t too keen on crawling around on a cold floor trying to spot a miniscule sky-blue tablet, but then I compared it to the possible long-term outcome of hours of backbreaking labor and ownership of a screaming infant, and suddenly crawling around on the floor didn’t seem so bad after all.

I quickly determined that the pill wasn’t anywhere on the open floor. Because of course not. That would have been too easy. I grabbed my iPhone and used its flashlight to start peering into our bedroom’s plethora of nooks and crannies.

First I checked under the bed. This involved nudging aside several members of the Official Nutty Dust Bunny Colony which occupies the sub-bed real-estate. Having established to my satisfaction that the pill was not being held hostage by dust bunnies, I made a mental note to Swiffer under the bed more often ever.

Then I tackled the closet. Shoeboxes and shopping bags were dutifully shuffled around, but still no luck.

I checked the corners of the room, behind the laundry hamper, under the bathroom scale. I shook out the tiny area rug that keeps my toes from freezing off in the mornings. Nada.

Finally I looked in the last place it could possibly be: under my bedside table. But I did not find my whore pill.

I did find two spiders.

Nutty Hubby was still scouring the other side of the room when I asked him to bring me The Stick. “Did you find the pill?” he asked, obviously thinking it was buried so far back somewhere that my little arms couldn’t reach it without help.

“No,” I replied, “I found spiders.”

“Well that explains it,” NH said, nodding sagely. I looked at him blankly. “What? Spiders might want birth control too, you know.”

As I nudged my unwelcome guests from their hiding spots with The Stick, I contemplated the wisdom of Nutty Hubby’s words, and I found myself wishing that spider birth control was really a thing, because our building has seen some truly giant house spiders that I would just as soon not have breeding within the walls.

I looked at Spider #1 and thought, “Good for you for taking charge of your sexual health.” And then, “But they’re still MY goddamn whore pills, you thief,” and Spider #1 went squish under The Stick. Spider #2 met its demise in the same fashion a second later.

Several days (and a few necessary adjustments to my birth control regimen) later, I still haven’t found that goddamn pill, and it’s looking more and more likely that Nutty Hubby was right and those two spiders had just been waiting for me to slip up and drop them a dose of baby-banning hormones.

Well, at least part of their plan worked. It’s pretty hard to get knocked up if you’re dead.