Lucky Me

I may be blessed but I'm certainly not lucky. Take for example: About a week ago, a spider ripped into my pregnant cankles like it was Thanksgiving. All the while, my husband slept peacefully beside me, unscathed.
Now my legs look like two burned hot dogs and I can hardly walk. NOT FAIR! My inner child stomps her foot. If I have to be the one to vomit for months and birth the children, my husband should bear the bites, the doctor appointments, the antibiotics, and the constant itching. Oh no, that's all me.  Where's the justice?
And if Jami tells me not to scratch one more time I'm going to plant spiders in his shoes so he can share in the suffering.
He better not bother me because I have a feeling this could be one of those days I hate him because he's breathing too loud.
DAMN ALL THE SPIDERS! and HUSBANDS! What-thehell-Ever!