you're NOT listening
I had a discussion with spiders last year, about placement of webs in and around the house. Most of them seem to have understood: there are no webs indoors where I can walk into them. (I ignored the two in the upstairs bathtub for a couple of weeks, then evicted the occupants through the window before Judge arrived.)
Yesterday, Soren went out on the front porch, and called me over to admire the beautiful web somebody had created, a little left of center over the steps. And it was, indeed, a beautiful, symmetrical web, glimmering in the afternoon light.
About five and a half feet from the ground.
(I'm five-seven.)
"Fine," I said. "I'll just duck under it on the way out." A very reasonable plan -- except that somebody had placed anchor strands on both porch pillars. Have I mentioned that I really dislike spiderwebs in my eyelashes?
Somebody scuttled off in a huff, and I went to the bus stop, brushing webbing out of my lashes and brows.
Hmph.
Yesterday, Soren went out on the front porch, and called me over to admire the beautiful web somebody had created, a little left of center over the steps. And it was, indeed, a beautiful, symmetrical web, glimmering in the afternoon light.
About five and a half feet from the ground.
(I'm five-seven.)
"Fine," I said. "I'll just duck under it on the way out." A very reasonable plan -- except that somebody had placed anchor strands on both porch pillars. Have I mentioned that I really dislike spiderwebs in my eyelashes?
Somebody scuttled off in a huff, and I went to the bus stop, brushing webbing out of my lashes and brows.
Hmph.