Dear Funnel Web Spiders,

I don't know why you've chosen to come inside in the last week. I would say it's the rain, except that I found you under the pile of sorted laundry last week -- when it was blazing hot and dry as day-old toast outside -- so although I've seen more of you this week than last, I'm pretty sure you aren't coming inside because you are the only spiders on the planet to melt in the rain.

Perhaps this is part of your fall mating ritual? Set up shop in some house filled with unsuspecting humans, and whichever male spider elicits the biggest shrieks and cries from the inhabitants is the most desirable, and all the ladies flock to him for Courvasier and Barry White and *ahem* -- or whatever the spider world equivalents of these things are. Do large house spiders like Barry White? You look like you would. That's all I'm saying.

But here's the thing: while I can appreciate that perhaps you are trying to get your groove on, and the weather's cooling off, and perhaps spiders get feisty in the fall, could I politely suggest that you move in next door instead? That house is totally empty. I know, you won't be able to have contests to make the inhabitants cry out, shiver in horror, or brush their bare skin off in constant obsessive motions even though you aren't still on their legs and haven't been for an hour but they still feel like you are. Which is hilarious, I'm sure. Do large house spiders laugh? You look like you do.

You look like you're laughing at me when you scuttle across the floor of my shower in the morning while I'm in my most vulnerable state of no-contacts-in-yet and therefore can't tell exactly what you are except that you are LARGE. You look like you're laughing at me when you are sitting calmly on my window blinds, or in my Daughter's window sill, or in my Son's bin of plastic food, or in the hall, or in the kitchen, or on. my. leg. Okay, that last was an exaggeration, I'll admit. You didn't get to sit on my leg long enough for me to check if you were laughing. But I'll tell you this: I was not.

But if you move in next door, no one will disturb you. And by disturb, I of course mean "call their husbands to come and dispose of." And by dispose of, most husbands mean "kill." Now I know spiders are good for keeping down insects, but we haven't had a whole lot of insects in our house recently, so I'm guessing you're pretty hungry. I hear next door, where the house has been standing empty for a long time, there are a lot of insects. And no one to complain about how loudly you play Barry White.

So, won't you consider it please? Because otherwise I'm going to have to call those men in little white suits (no, not the ones with little white jackets for me, the ones with little white powders for you). And that won't be pretty. For you.

Fair warning.

And stop laughing.

MommyTime

* photo from here. And in case you think I'm overreacting, these things are kind of furry looking and the smallest one I've seen so far is about an inch and a half in diameter. Do you want that crawling around under your sorted laundry? I thought not.