Three degrees of psycho

Not really all that psycho:

On Saturday, I called over the whole family to check out the spider nurseries. Oh, so cute - baby spiders all over the hedge. There were three big nests like these. While the abundance of spiders in our garden does regularly freak me out, there is no way I'm bothering these animals.

Then... I got a bamboo branch, removed all spider's webs and trimmed the hedge.

Well, my garden was looking messy.

Actually the baby spiders weren't all that bothered. When I used the bamboo branch, they scooted down into the centre of the bush, then after I cut the hedge they came back up again, sunning themselves.

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Slightly psycho:

I have a slug and snail problem in the garden. I don't like to bother/kill living organisms other than mosquitoes (they started it), but these bastards are ruining my hostas.

Just look at the poor thing! Have you ever seen a sorrier looking hosta?

Every summer, I crack in the end and toss any slimy buggers I find in a bucket with lemonade. Which they drown in. And it makes me feel like a mass murderer. I mean, it's not like these beasts are trying to suck my blood, attacking my children or eating our vegetable patch. No, they are simply punching holes in my decorative plants. Not really such a big deal. But look at my hostas! How pretty would they be if they weren't full of holes?

I do come from a long line of psycho killers. My grandfather used to shoot birds in his garden, and my mother taught me to kill snails by covering them in salt and exterminate flying ants by pouring boiling water into their nest. Somehow lemonade seems like the more humane way to dispose of snails. I mean, I like lemonade - why shouldn't they? Fair enough, they drown - but that has to be better than slowly drying out in a bath of salt, right? Right?
In our last house, I didn't have this problem. We had horrible neighbours, so I used to just throw all slugs and snails over the garden wall. Now we have lovely neighbours, so that solution is no longer an option. Damn those lovely neighbours. Why can't they heckle us in the street?
Okay, I admit it - I'm evil.  However, I haven't actually started my massacre yet. I'm still dithering. I'll probably wait until they've completely finished off my hostas and then I'll go in and kill them in pointless revenge. Because that would be less bad.

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Completely psycho:

We are looking for a good name for our baby boy. This is an extremely difficult process, as we both want a name which "works" in our own language. It has to be pronouncable to both populations in any case.
As a lot of friends have pointed out, we are now basically down to the names Tom and Ben. (We aren't really - but this gets them off my back, so I just nod and agree with them.) The problem is, I don't like the name Ben enough, probably due to some Bens I know, and the name Tom has already been taken in our household. One of darling cats is called Tom. Actually, I fucking hate those beasts. I tolerate them, even feed them sometimes, but I do regret being seduced by the lovely cuteness that was kittens so that we are now stuck with the vomiting, flea-attracting, hair-shedding horror that is cats.
So - last week I found the solution to all our problems and proposed to Babes that I get a gun, shoot the cat, and then we can recycle the name for baby. This is so wrong on so many levels that it has been making me laugh for days now. But it would solve all our problems. I just have to "accidentally" get the other cat with the same bullet because there is no way this child is getting Rufus as a second name.

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I'm entering this post for Josie's writing workshop today, for prompt 3: Take a walk around your garden. What do you see there? Or tell us what you dream of seeing when you step out of your back door.

Yay! So glad I finally managed to take part!