Let's pretend you're my husband and it's Friday night.

You'll head to bed around midnight, and by the time your wife comes to bed you'll have been asleep for two hours. You'll be mildly irritated because she insists on turning on her bedside lamp and reading before she goes to sleep, even though you grunt and breathe accusingly every time she does it. The fact that YOU read every night before bed, and YOUR bedside lamp has a 400-watt light bulb, has no relevance to this situation.

After sighing and sleeping in a pointed and assertive manner, you'll notice that there's a lot of movement and twitching and blanket-shifting from the other side of the bed, so you'll roll over and deign to open one eye, prepared to snarl and grumble incoherently. Instead of peering directly into your wife's face, or maybe the side of her head, you'll find yourself glaring at her ankle.

"What are you DOING?" you'll mutter, although only your wife will know what you said. To the casual observer, you'd have said, "Whayadun?" She'll explain that there was a spider on the ceiling and she can't sleep knowing that it was planning to strategically drop eggs from the ceiling into her hair.

You'll say, "Am I the only person in this house who can kill an animal without standing on a chair?"

Then you'll go back to sleep, and your wife will try not to over-analyze that particular pearl of bizarreness.