Yesterday we came home from church to find a shiny black widow spider upside down, red hourglass fully exposed, on our front porch. Believing she was dead, the only kind of acceptable spider in my book, we stepped over her and went inside, figuring Joe would go out and inspect her closer soon after.

He went out about 30 minutes later and poked her gently with a stick, trying to turn her back over to get a good look at her.

She moved – scampering for the brick wall.

Joe didn’t jump, he just squashed her quickly. I was kind of disappointed that I didn’t get a picture but I sure am comfortable with the fact that she’s actually dead.

Did I mention that I have a phobia-like fear of spiders that move? Just writing this is giving me that creepy, spiders-are-crawling-all-over-me feeling.

But, thanks to Joe, I can rest assured that the widow is dead.

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