a lazy Sunday coma

Dancing Curtains, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

It's only 86 degrees right now with a high of 90. Maybe it really is September. Triple digits until Halloween is standard. A tradition even, because that sounds more festive. But I'll take it.

I have the whole house open because not only is it cooler but actually breezy. I love the way that curtains dance in the breezes. I could watch it for hours and slip into a lazy Sunday coma.

We have a rather large southwestern brown widow that has built quite a penthouse between the strands of our patio lights. When we let Bowie out, we each take turns watching her through the sliding glass door. We make squinty Dad faces like we aren't wearing our glasses-- but we always are. Grossed out faces. Curious faces. As I was watching her last night while Bowie did her business, Jason called out from the kitchen--

"Is it moving? I hate when it moves!"

My husband hates and fears spiders. Not that I don't. I do. But I have to fear them a little less because I am the designated spider-killer. I've left her alone so far because our bug guy is coming anyway. There are a few widows living on the patio and I'd just rather not mess with it. It's not as bad as it was when we moved in last year. The entire backyard was infested with black widows. It was horrible.

I also can't bring myself to kill her because she's full of babies. Or her web is, rather. I don't want to be there when they come. It grosses me out. And I know my husband is going to absolutely lose his mind. But I still can't kill her. I'm also not brave enough to catch her and move her somewhere else. I figure if we don't bother her, she won't bother us. She's high enough up that the dog won't mess with her either.

I dunno if it's Charlotte's Web, semi-current-events or what exactly. I just can't kill her.