Жук-прыгун попал в стакан с апельсиновым соком, но хозяин сумел вернуть его на лист токсичного растения

Want to know how a spider, a big black spider with hairy legs, ended up in my orange juice glass? Oops, now that everyone is triggered, maybe we should backtrack to the beginning. Backtrack on eight hairy legs. While waving around two hairy arms. There I was at the kitchen sink, rinsing my coffee mug for round two of my morning coffee. Yes, I clean my mug between brews. Because my ancient and venerable Keurig spits coffee grounds. ADVERTISEMENT It has a special aversion to light roast. Really, so do I. But I have been on a health kick and have switched to light roast. Sometimes. I am now drinking only three cups of dark roast instead of six. While I was drying my mug, a spider the size of a small grape took a stroll eastward across the kitchen cabinet. What to do? I thought briefly about squishing it. But it was probably way more juicy than a small grape. Put the mug on top of it? Rookie mistake. The mug was yellow porcelain. No way to know if the spider was under the mug or up my sleeve. Instead, I grabbed my orange juice glass. Which is not orange unless it has orange juice in it. I am a veteran of trapping bugs. And that was when I learned it was a jumping spider. All righty, then. I grabbed an index card and waited for the spider to jump again so I could slide the card under the glass. The spider next decided, instead, to climb the side of the glass. All righty, again. You would think, with eight legs, a spider could be able to stick to the side of a glass. It did not. I slid the card under the glass, trying to avoid un-legging the creature. What does one do with a spider in a glass? Feed it to the Venus fly trap? She had not had a fly for a while. She was probably famished. But what if the spider would give her indigestion? How would I get Pepto-Bismol into a Venus fly trap? ADVERTISEMENT Plan B. My garden of unearthly delights, which is filled with giant elephant ears, pineapple lilies, and an exotic voodoo lily. A spider would feel at home amongst those toxic bulbs. Out we went. Let me say I had the foresight to open all the doors so that I could keep both hands on my spider-inna-glass as I walked. And the good luck not to trip over my own feet. I held the spider over the turkey-platter-sized voodoo lily leaf, and pulled away the card from under the glass. That was when the spider again exercised its jumping skills. Of course it did. That was also when I learned that, when necessary, I can jump faster than a jumping spider.