Endless Battle.

I'm waging war. My weapons of choice- long handled web brush , gloves and sturdy shoes - for stomping!
Now I'm all for live and let live and I will try to move a huntsman outside rather than squish it, but daddy long legs and their webs drive me nuts.
I blame my mother.
Mum wears glasses and for as long as I can remember, insists she's unable to see the webs trailing from corners. It became my job as a kid to dispatch the webs and spiders. Being the earnest type, I've taken that role with me into adulthood.
So with not one, but two of those web brush thingys (one for outside and the other for inside - I take this very seriously!) I stalk the house and swish, squish and stomp, fortnightly.
HOWEVER at the minute, I'm doing it daily. Excessive? I think not!
The spider population is staging an all out take-over bid. As fast as I knock them down, they're back. And breeding if you don't mind!
My husband dismisses my angst with 'Spray them.'
Fine, except I hate the chemicals in the house.
Anyway stomping and swishing and squishing is much more satisfying, particularly when I'm mulling over a story.
So armed and dangerous, I'm off to do the rounds.

Weapon of choice...

The enemy!