And so it begins: September. I hate bloody September. It’s big spiders in the house month. Four weeks of paranoia walking through each room with my eyes scanning the floor, walls and ceiling as I go. At least I have finally learned that the spiders just run faster when I jump up and down on the spot shrieking my husband’s name in a hysterical fashion. After 26 years of practice, he could give a master class on how to catch spiders. I, of course, would not be attending.