This morning I was talking to my dad on the phone and noticed a big black spider nestled in one of the TV cabinet crevices. Sometimes I don't mind a spider in the house because, assuming it's not lazy, it will eat a more meddlesome bug. But this one had a big, juicy body and those are freaky. I thought to myself it must be done away with when I was off the phone.
When that happened, I returned to the spider spot but it had fled.
A few minutes later, Jude was taking interest in the nothing-spot to the left of the fireplace. I whipped myself over and YES -- the spider had migrated. I gasped, slid Jude out of the way (the nice thing about soft cotton pants on wood floors), grabbed the dustbuster, aimed, and ignited. When I looked, the spider was gone.
Heaving a sigh of relief, I headed for the side door to empty the dustbuster into the garbage bins waiting for pick-up, when I glanced at the nose of the dustbuster. There sat the angry spider an arm's length away.
Shrieking, I did the only appropriate thing and chucked the dustbuster onto the driveway.