It's another 44 degree day today so there's no work happening. However I did pop out to the block to water the few trees we've planted (they're suffering greatly in the heat) and put up a sign to show visitors and tradespeople which lot is ours, as the last one blew off. Oo-er.
There's a lesson in what I'm about to tell you. If you can work out what that lesson is, please tell me.
On opening up the portaloo (the smallest storage shed in the world maybe, very handy) and removing the water container, I saw a little dead spider on the floor where the container had been. Hmmm I thought, what kinda spider was that when it was alive, peeping a bit closer (having heard the one about the redback on the toilet seat). It was then that I felt something on my hand. It wasn't a little redback thankfully. It was a great big huntsman. I shook it off my hand and waited for it to scuttle away but no! It came for me. So I stepped out of the way, assuming it was heading for something behind me. It changed tack and headed straight for me again. This happened again and again, during which time I had the chance to think "it's more afraid of me than I am of it". But it wasn't afraid, it seemed quite sociable actually. Then it got bored of my antisocial behaviour and headed under the shade of the portaloo. It sat there and just looked at me with an ironic grin. And with big compound eyes.
Just now I realise what made this spider so interested in me in particular. It must be the same one I flushed down the toilet a month ago. What a great memory that spider has. And I've had a haircut since then, how did it even recognise me?