You read that correctly. There is a live spider in my stainless steel fridge. I came home from church, opened the fridge and saw a cup with an envelope over the opening and a small dish on top of it. This looked weird and I asked, “Does anyone know why there is a covered cup in the fridge?”
I truly expected Callie to come running. She is my creative child, my interesting child. In her room, she has a drawer full of rocks—her collection and she refused to part with any (even though they all look the same). I told her one time, that she needed to get rid of some of the rocks.
“We have no room for rocks in the house,” I said.
She came and handed me two that I could put outside—two. She has probably fifty. And some of them are rather big and heavy.
If the cup wasn’t Callie’s then I thought maybe one of the boys was doing something odd. The imagination of children amazes me—the things they can come up with.
OH,BUT NO!! No child came running.
It was my husband.
He ran to the top of the stairs and yelled down to me, “Don’t uncover that cup!”
Oh, boy.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because there is a spider in there that I want to take a picture of.”
Huh?
“Ooo-kay. Why is it in my fridge?”
“I heard it slows them down and that way I can take a really cool picture.” My husband, if you cannot tell is into photography. My husband, if you cannot tell, is crazy.
“What kind of spider?” I HATE spiders. I hate spiders in the yard. I hate spiders in the house. I especially hate spiders in my fridge. I’m trying to make dinner. I am creeped out.
“Just don’t look,” he said.
OH, GREAT!! It must be a really, really big, ugly, scary looking spider—in my fridge.
I take a deep breath. I take another.
My husband is worse than the kids. That spider better be gone by evening time or I'm leaving him.
I truly expected Callie to come running. She is my creative child, my interesting child. In her room, she has a drawer full of rocks—her collection and she refused to part with any (even though they all look the same). I told her one time, that she needed to get rid of some of the rocks.
“We have no room for rocks in the house,” I said.
She came and handed me two that I could put outside—two. She has probably fifty. And some of them are rather big and heavy.
If the cup wasn’t Callie’s then I thought maybe one of the boys was doing something odd. The imagination of children amazes me—the things they can come up with.
OH,BUT NO!! No child came running.
It was my husband.
He ran to the top of the stairs and yelled down to me, “Don’t uncover that cup!”
Oh, boy.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because there is a spider in there that I want to take a picture of.”
Huh?
“Ooo-kay. Why is it in my fridge?”
“I heard it slows them down and that way I can take a really cool picture.” My husband, if you cannot tell is into photography. My husband, if you cannot tell, is crazy.
“What kind of spider?” I HATE spiders. I hate spiders in the yard. I hate spiders in the house. I especially hate spiders in my fridge. I’m trying to make dinner. I am creeped out.
“Just don’t look,” he said.
OH, GREAT!! It must be a really, really big, ugly, scary looking spider—in my fridge.
I take a deep breath. I take another.
My husband is worse than the kids. That spider better be gone by evening time or I'm leaving him.
