Last night I finished another novella about an older woman and a younger man with lashings of romance, culminating in the usual twist in the tale or (more in this instance, sting in the tail).
Talking of stings in the tail, this morning, I had a rude welcome to the day with a real sting in the toe when I put on my shoe in the kitchen and, shrieking with pain, withdrew my foot to find a spider clamped to the end of my toe. Its fangs were so embedded I couldn't get the spider off for some seconds. I then flung it to the ground, covered it with a glass, then flicked it into a clear ziplock plastic sandwich bag and pierced it with a pin so I could identify it.
Fortunately it wasn't the horrible White-tail I'd feared, so at least my toe isn't going to necrotise or have to be amputated. But it was painful!
Is there a moral to that story? Well, nothing cleverer than check your shoes before you put your feet into them.
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