The Look

Those of you who have or have had Golden Retrievers will appreciate this post. You know when they give you that look that SCREAMS "I've just done something very naughty but I'm going to sit here real still and look up at you with big blinking eyes and occasionally shift my eyebrows from time to time and play it off like I'm the most innocent little angel?" Well that was today.

Tom and I have decided to turn the 3rd bedroom into my craft room. YAY for me! He initially wanted to turn it into a mega gaming room complete with all his Play Station accessories and Virtual golf hook ups but since half our yard is now HIS putting green, I came out the winner in this battle. We've already begun preparations for the room, he actually painted it while I was gone and it looks sooo much better (used to have big gigantic fish painted on all the walls from the previous owners and it was so not our style.) So now we're trying to figure out logistics of where to place the crafting table, what type of baskets or bins we want for the shelves, and decide on overhead or table lighting. Right now the room is in shambles, there are boxes, baskets, and tubs everywhere and there's only a little space to walk and stand in the room. Not to mention, my craft supplies are spilling out everywhere.

This morning as I'm getting ready to leave for the day, I hear some rustling around in there. I peek in to find Wrigley just sitting in the middle of the room, in that tiny spot amid all the mess and mayhem. He's just sitting there, looking at me with THAT look. I instantly knew he had gotten into something. I didn't want to start the chasing game which has the potential to last all morning so I calmly said, "What you got??" And he just sits there, blinking.

I slowly start to approach and he doesn't move. Then I think, "Oh crap, he's got something stuck in his mouth! Maybe a button or a wooden doll's head or maybe he swallowed more jewelery glue! OH NO!! Not another call to poison control!!" So I grab for his face and pry open his mouth.

And out pops...

A big, black spider.

STILL ALIVE!!!

I SCREAM as if I'm being skinned alive and my entire body starts flailing and I'm stomping up and down in the little space in the room. The spider makes a bee line underneath a basket filled with yarns and knitting supplies. Now I won't touch those for at least 6 months. Wrigley's now jumping up almost in sync with me and starts barking non stop and i just keep yelling, "SPIDER! SPIDER!! SPIDER!!!" Not sure why, I think I wanted to scare Wrigley from EVER going near another live spider again. Like that logic even works.

I bolt out of the room knocking my shins and toes into more boxes of crap which of course justifies the need to shout some choice 4 letter words and head into the hallway to try and regain composure. Chumley's about half way up the stairs coming to check and see what all the commotion was about. Wrigley chases him back down the stairs, I SCREAM for him to STOP IT! then slam the door to the craft room and head back to the bathroom for a second coating of deodorant.

A few minutes later as I'm pulling out of the driveway I see my neighbor (who's house butts up to the craft room window that was of course, open) outside doing yard work. I smile and wave, like nothing was out of the ordinary and he waves back. Just another typical morning at our house.