I was sitting by the window, eating my lunch. A few steps outside the window, a spider with thick, long legs was weaving its web in front of the porch door.
My eyes widened.
That’s not good.
I stood up and grabbed a pen and piece of paper.
“SPIDER IN FRONT OF PORCH DOOR” I wrote in large, capital letters for Chad.
I placed a strip of tape at the top of the note and stuck it to the garage door so Chad couldn’t miss it when he got home, and I wouldn’t forget to tell him.
When I sat back down in the chair the spider had moved, but to where I couldn’t tell. After searching for a few seconds, I spotted prickly legs a foot above where it had previously hung.
He was spinning his way toward the roofline. Up, up he glided until just crossing over the white gutter.
Suddenly, a blur of flapping wings pounced on top of the spider. And, just as quickly, disappeared.
My eyes widened again.
Then, I laughed out loud.
An evil laugh that surprised even me.
