the romance isn't dead

me, in kitchen: Hey, look at that! There are a couple of smaller versions of Beatrice running around near the sink. [leaning closer] Naw, they're not as hairy as she was. But that's pretty amazing. I wonder where they came from.
husband: Outside.
me: Huh? How do you know that? How'd they get in?
husband: You seemed so sad about that other spider I went out and caught these.

Both spiders eventually hunkered down behind objects on the windowsill and looked gloomy for a while. Then they disappeared. They've scuttled off to somewhere less exposed, I expect. I hope they lead long and happy lives in the basement where I won't find their webs. Oh how I hate running into unexpected spider webs.

But still, it's about as romantic a gesture as anyone's ever made--because, hey, my husband doesn't much like spiders.


  1. That is kind of sweet. I thought at first that maybe Bea had done a Charlotte.

  2. Yeah, for a moment I wondered the same thing.

    I'm sort of glad Bea didn't. We've had spiders' eggs hatch before in our house and the sheer numbers of hatchlings is pretty astounding. I'd have to catch and release hundreds of babies. No vacuum cleaner for those offspring.

  3. Hah, that's great!


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

what I'm talking about above--the letter in RWR

My Writing Day with an Unproductive Brain