Spiders and me

I am not new to spider stories. No. There's the sweatshirt spider story, the bathroom spider story, the training spider story, and I even have a Mexico spider story, which is less funny because the spider*s* were actually evil, and muy numerous. Today there is another for the spider archives.

A Tale of Two Spiders, or, The Laundry Spider and the Bathroom Spider, the second.

I think it's been a month since I folded laundry. Seriously. Or at least, it's been a month that I've had a rotating pile (several full baskets) of clean, unfolded laundry. It appears that spiders think this is cool digs for them. Worthless cat. So... this morning I walk out to grab a towel, my husband is sitting with the laptop across the room.

"Ack." (deadpan, I'm tired)
Beat. Beat. Beat.
"What?" Tom asks without feeling. He's tired and he's reading his Mac news.
I stand there, looking at him, looking at the wall, looking at him.
He finally looks up. "What?"
"Spider." Duh.
"Where?"
I direct my gaze to the spindly brown thing on the wall.
"Oh. That's nothing."
Chuh. "But you're going to kill it anyway. Right?"
The spider, meanwhile, listens in pleased hunger. Knowing the large, stupid one has been convinced by its spindly nature into thinking it harmless, while it licks its chops in anticipation of a bite of live flesh. It probably left spider drool on my clothes. Ew.
Later, after my shower I'm attacked in the bathroom... this time it was an aerial attack, and the spider was small and black. Clearly there is a plague going on in my house. I let out two short squeals, which Tom later tells me sounded like a small, annoying canine, before managing to wrest the spider to the ground. Being barefoot, I must scramble for a large handful of toilet paper with witch to smash the offending creature into an unrecognizable pulp.
"Uh... are you okay?" through the door, apprehensively as if I might come flying from the room and bonk his head or something.
What does he mean 'am I okay?' I've just been assaulted in my own bathroom. And I probably woke the baby, which always makes morning toiletries more hectic. Of course I'm not okay.
"Fine. Just been attacked by a spider is all."
"Oh." Just that.
Back in the living room, Tom is now dressed, but he is otherwise situated just as he was before, laptop and all. Now it is 'the week in pictures' or some such. The spider is still on the wall. And still very much alive.
"Why haven't you killed it?"
"I like him. He entertains me."
"like my barking?"
"yes, like that."
"kill it."
He sighs. "Very well."
I come back a few moments later to find the spider gone.
"Did you kill it?"
"Yes." Duh.
I am still skeptical, and shall not be surprised to find the fiendish devil among the clothes tonight as I dig through them for the weekend's necessities.
Clearly, my husband doesn't understand.