My husband says he will not visit my blog again until that nasty thing is off the front page. I really didn't have anything to say today, but I figure my husband is more important than my readership so I'll humor him.

So I have to come up with a post long enough to get the spider at least down below the fold so I don't creep him out just for stopping by to see what we're up to. He doesn't like spiders.

When we were first married, he'd run screaming out of the room whenever he saw one, demanding I do something.
Australia has more venomous spiders than any other continent.
He'd rationalize as I scooped the spider into a jar and released it outside.
There's one with fangs strong enough to bite through a child's fingernail.
He pleaded as I shook my head.

I don't know how he survived, unless all Australians run screaming from the room every time they see a spider. A somewhat neurotic survival strategy, and not becoming of other Australians I've met who seem to have a certain, uncanny lack of sense when it comes to our relationship with the wild.

For some strange reason, I suddenly want to watch Arachnophobia. Nothing like a good Creature Feature. Wonder if John will join me...