There is nothing quite like going up to the man's extra room to look for something and glancing at the bookshelf and seeing a paper plate with what looks like his tarantula on it.
This is how it feels, all in less than two seconds.
Heart stops, breathing stops, a small gasp comes forth, and panic begins to set in. The body stiffens, preparing to fight for its life. Then you slowly look to where the tarantula "should be" and it is there, in its cage, not ready to pounce and kill you.
Then the realization sets in that this is just "the skin" that was shed and plucked from the cage to give to an adventurous little girl relative.
For some reason I expected "the skin" to look like human skin peeled from a sunburn, which of course makes no sense.
This is what then happens when you realize what it is.
Your body instantly calms and is not ready to fight for its life. You glance one more time to make sure that the tarantula is indeed in its cage. You disgustingly look at the skin. Mutter a curse word at your husband for having "the skin" there. (It is not like it is in HIS room or anything). Then, you remember that what you want is in the garage and you leave the room.
That, my friends, is how my morning had started. Hope your morning was better!!