This afternoon, I went out on the front porch to retrieve a box the postman delivered. As I bent down to pick it up, I saw a spider. Not an bitsy spider, nope, a big spider. About three inches from leg to leg. I did the spider dance, and nearly shut the door on my foot in my haste to Get. Away. From. The. Spider. After nearly hyperventilating myself into hysteria, I peeked out the door. It hadn’t move at all. Not even with my shrieking and door slamming.

Not trusting anything with eight legs and a billion eyes, I carefully stared at the damned thing for a full minute – or ten. It still didn’t move. I wasn’t going to touch it. Maybe it was dead, maybe it was trying to trick me into getting close enough to jump on me. Not going to touch it, not going on the porch, not going, nope, nope, nope.

When the Mr. got home, I asked him to come look at the still unmoving creature. “Oh, he said, That’s a fake spider.” So calm, so unruffled. I wanted to strangle him. “Who the HELL put that on MY PORCH?! The decibel count went up with each word. He shrugged, “I guess either Addie or I left it on the porch last weekend.” For about five seconds I was speechless. Then the words hit the fan, so to speak. I was profane, I was loud, I was nearly stomping in fury! He did the man thing, and went out to the porch, took the spider, and put it in the rubbish bin. The he quietly found something to do upstairs in his office while I calmed down.

I was a good wife, I didn’t burn his dinner as a way of saying I was sorry for losing it. I know he was upstairs laughing at me. I know he snickered and chortled. I know it. He does that when I get all girlie on him. But, people, it was a SPIDER! A big, black, ugly, creepy spider, right next to the package. I could have TOUCHED it! Ew! Ick! Shudder. I think I am traumatized. And he thought it was no big deal. Men! Geesh! Whoever made plastic rubberized creepy crawlies as TOYS needs to be tossed into a pit of nasty living things for eternal punishment.