Last night I meandered down to the basement to surf the web for a few minutes. The phone rang, so I turned from the computer screen and found myself face to face with a reject from Starship Troopers.
Apparently, a fishing spider came to visit us. No surprise that he ventured inland for a bite to eat; the nearest waterway is essentially a wooded trickle that runs past our backyard, so the fishing must be terrible there. Still, you don't expect to see a spider with a legspan of three inches nuzzling your Berber.
Did I shriek like a little girl, though? Nope. Mature woman that I am, I found a bucket and trapped Webby within. Then I went upstairs and calmly told my husband that I'd found a spider in the basement, and that I needed him to escort the critter outside. That was the only option of getting rid of it 'cause smashing it woulda stained my fresh new carpet. Well, that or Webby would've caught whatever blunt object was being hurled at him and used it to pick his teeth.
So, Hubby vs. Webby began. It wasn't a long and drawn out affair, as Webby had apparently expired under the dome of the bucket. But still, I count that as a win in Hubby's column. Now, if we could just do something about the squirrel that digs in our flower boxes on the deck...