He was in one of my double kitchen sinks—a spider, legs and all about a half-dollar size. I have nothing against spiders per se, but outside fine, inside not so much. As one of my daughters says, when they’re outside, it’s OK, but in the house, they’re dead. So I tried to wash him down the sink. (Any spider lovers should quit reading now.) Each time I did, he kept crawling back out, so I would wash him down again. This happened at least three or four times until he didn’t come back out. Impressed, I said, “If you survive this, I’m going to let you live.” But he didn’t come out again. Next morning, guess who greeted me? Right, Mr. or Ms. Spider again. So, instead of drowning him, I was just waterboarding him! I felt sorry for him and I had promised, so now to figure out a way to free him from the sink. I used the plastic tube wrapper from my morning newspaper, scared him into it and released him outdoors. Promising and then carrying out promises made to spiders, maybe I’ve been in isolation too long!
But I Did Promise
Published
Briefly Speaking 