I threw open the kitchen window the other morning and just as I drew my hand back, something tumbled down into the sink:
It narrowly missed my hand. PALPITATIONS, anyone? I called Mr HSB over in a faint voice, to get a look at it. Please note the similarity in diameter between the spider's leg span and the drain basket in my sink.
Not twelve hours later, I was crossing the living room floor in the dead of night, and saw another, smaller one, in the middle of the floor. Then, the next morning, I threw the kitchen window open again and ANOTHER one fell into the sink, just as it had before. Then last night, someone moved a box of donations I was gradually filling up, and Surprise! Thing Four.
I used to be afraid of them, but I got over it when I was really drunk one night at a weekend-long bachelorette party at Whistler, and in a moment of liquid courage saw fit to slap one with my bare hand. It was pretty funny at the time, not to mention a little disgusting, but the greater implication was that I realised I was more menacing than they were. Breakthrough.
And in the last part of this pointless and arbitrary post, I direct you to my sister's blog, where she and her children compose a touching poem about the many beauties and bounties of fall. (Warning - vegetarians may be disturbed.)