Which would you choose?

Death by car crash or death by poisonous spider bite? That was the life and death decision presented to me the other day as I drove to pick up Girlie from day camp. It goes to show you that you never know when you will be faced with life and death choice. And of course, it's all my Hubby's fault. The trauma of the event caused me to block it out of my mind for a few days but the story resurfaced tonight as I met with the awesome and deservedly famous Izzymom (a later post, to be sure). Here's how it went down - I'm back to the spider story, keep up people. Traffic was thick. And it had been raining - that bucket load kind of rain we get here in Florida - so many drivers were in panic mode. Panicky oldsters tend to drive with one foot on the brake. Panicky youngsters lock their knees and can't take their feet off the gas pedal. Throw in a lake or two in the right hand lane and you've got a dangerous traffic situation. (Cue the Twilight Zone music.) Now, imagine if you will, a big fat round-bodied spider that looks an awful lot like a brown widow spider creeping across the top of your windshield, on the inside of course, and just visible in your upward peripheral vision. It pauses just above your lap...thinking, thinking, mmmm, tasty mommy. Steve McQueen, were he still with us, could not have pulled a more perfect maneuver with my less than agile soccer mom van. Lickety split, I was off the road and squishing that spider in a used kleenex. I might have run over a Mini Cooper but it's hard to tell in the behemoth that I drive. If that was you I crushed, sorry. I still managed to pick up my daughter on time but unfortunately, I was still reeling from my experience and told her about it. "SHAME ON YOU. SHAME ON YOU FOR HURTING NATURE." Obviously, she was missing the life and deathness of the situation. "What would you have wanted me to do?" "You should have found a stick and a big leaf and some tape or string to attach the leaf and then gently scooped the spider out of the car." "That spider wanted to kill me." "SHAME ON YOU." "Okay. Next time. I promise." Sheesh, kids. As I drove home, I wondered where that spider had come from. Then I recalled that my Hubby had been using my van to haul sod. That's right. The real reason I don't have a Prius yet is that my Hubby can't let go of the pickup truck, I mean van. Sod. There's still dirt and sod droppings in the back. And probably more spiders. When I find one, I'm going to get that stick and leaf and tape and gently scoop the spider onto the seat of Hubby's Lexus. Oh yes I am.