I have a method to my madness for most things. Even spiders. Those eight-legged arachnids that every fall creep inside my warm dry house and try to re-populate my basement with their cousins, aunts, and uncles.
If I deem this spider’s time of passing is imminent, I start glancing around for the nearest shoe, book, stack of folded paper. Basically something flat to whack the spider good and hard with. My last resort is the shoe I am wearing. Somehow I cannot stomach this. The old stomp on the spider with your own foot filled shoe seems more violent. Like I am actually out to kill him. Yes, I know that is the intent, but . . .
Comforting Show Notes:
Myths Busted: Just When You thought You Knew What You Knew by National Geography
Fact or Fiction?: People Swallow 8 Spiders a Year While They Sleep by Scientific American
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