Spiders can be dangerous you know.

I'm not talking about the hundreds of poisonous species that appear to thrive in Australia, or the tarantulas of America or even the black widows we occasionally find hiding in dark corners in our country. Nor am I referring to the one in the nursery tale that frightened Miss Muffet away. My one was more like the eentsy weenstsy spider from the water spout fable.

Yes, the spider in my story was so small that it was almost invisible without the aid of a large magnifying glass, and it was hanging from a web that was so fine as to be even less visible. But this minuscule creature had the audacity or temerity to suspend itself from the roof of my car just in front of the nose of my dear, but seriously arachnophobic wife, just as she ensconced herself comfortably in the passenger seat beside me.

The reaction was instantaneous. Indeed it was akin to an explosion. I didn't have a snowball's chance in the hot place of avoiding it. Wham, biff, bang, right on the side of the head came a flying purse. A large purse, loaded as usual with everything but the kitchen sink.

Although momentarily stunned, I wasn't knocked unconscious, but I did suffer from whiplash for several weeks thereafter.

And the moral of this story is that flying purses can be even more dangerous than dangling spiders.