
We are coming into the spider season again. August and September are the months when I refrain from sitting on the floor, or staying downstairs on my own at night to watch television and I certainly don't walk around barefoot. This is the time when a movement seen from the corner of your eye becomes a gigantic hairy spider charging across the living room looking for its next meal or making a desperate dash for freedom. It's the time when you almost fall downstairs from sheer terror at coming face to face with one of the horrific black creatures half way up just sitting there waiting to strike terror into your heart - you could almost see the smug smirk of satisfaction on its face if you were inclined to hang around! Then there is always the clever one which hangs around on the shower curtain, waiting till you are nicely installed under the jet of water before it shows itself and abandons you to your slippery slide of terror.
But they're getting sneakier and cleverer.
Like the one which hid itself in the laundry basket so that I carried it downstairs in a bundle of washing - I actually had it in my arms! I'm still getting palpitations just thinking about it.
And to add insult to injury, since Keith broke his ankle, he seems to have resigned from spider-killing duty, leaving me to deal with them, alone, unaided, by myself.
I mean - it's not much to ask. What else would you keep a man in the house for???