...Find the largest man you can (this may require a flight to Los Angeles or wherever it is that Shaquille O’Neal is playing these days) and ask him to hold out his hand and spread his fingers apart as wide as possible.
This is smaller than the size of the spider that was on the collar of my robe last night. Thank God I was not yet wearing the robe because I would currently be on life support at Danbury Hospital. I couldn’t scream because it might have startled the spider enough to make him jump onto my face so I spoke to sleeping Seth through a clenched jaw, my nose an inch from his, informing him that there was a spider (larger than Shaquille O’Neal's hand) that needed to be taught a lesson. He rose--without ever waking--and took care of business, returning to bed with another spider-shaped notch on the belt of his bathrobe. He's done this before.
And,there was a pale yellow spider on the bathroom blinds this morning. Luckily,Seth was home and today's intruder has gone--I hope--to a place where creatures with eight legs are treated with God's benign love.
There is nothing funny abut a spider. With the eight leg thing going on, how could there be? This alone relegates them to supporting roles in horror movies and nursery rhymes.It's getting chilly outside so they are coming in to seek warmth and they seem to love me.This indicates very poor judgement on their part because I do not return their affection. And,most significantly,I employ a hit man in a red fleece robe who,while he takes no pleasure in killing, knows upon which side his bagel is buttered.There will be more deaths.