I hurried across the wet grass to where the outdoor cats were waiting for their breakfast. I wished I could slow down to enjoy the morning, still dim and cool, but I was late, always late on workdays. Every morning I forgot to duck the spider’s home strung across the path. Every time I screeched when the gauzy string hit my forehead and dragged through my hair. Every day I redirected the spider, shiny and black, scolding it as I moved one of the strands, “Why can’t you stay in the tree?” Surely one of us could learn. Hopefully the one with cobweb stuck to her glasses.
Update: The spider moved her web up two branches last night.