Yesterday, my husband yelled for me to grab my camera and take a picture of an interesting spider he found on the bed. He was pretty cool with a long body and small stripes across his legs. I couldn’t pass it up.
“Make sure you get a picture of him running toward your face,” Rob said while picking him up with the tiny lid of an Edge Shaving Cream can. The spider’s legs were so long that they dangled over the rim. Once Rob dumped him back on our bed, I went all Anne Leibovitz and took about seventy-five shots of the arachnid. I’m surprised I didn’t stick him in a flower pot and put a daisy hat on his head. It wasn’t until he ran directly toward my mouth that I backed up and let him scurry away.
Later that day, I posted one of the pictures on Facebook where someone informed me that it’s a banana spider and he’s deadly. He can also jump up to four feet so it’s wise to stay a healthy distance away. If you want to see me spit a full mouth of coffee across my computer screen, this is about the best comment you can leave me. I wish there was a picture of the expression I gave my husband. Gentlemen, you know the face. The one your wife gives you at a dinner party when you say something dumb.
I immediately Google the spider and yes, he is deadly. But mine didn’t have the red fangs so if bitten, I wouldn’t die but would need to be rushed to the hospital due to “extensive pain.” This is nice because I could have shared a room with my husband, who would also be suffering from “extensive pain” after his eardrums exploded from me screaming at him.
If one of us was to get bit, I suppose it’s better being me. One of the symptoms in men is profoundly painful erections. If only that was the side effect of saying dumb things at dinner parties… Rob would never open his mouth again.