"Are you ready, Steve...?"

Nothing of great import to declare from the puggle newsdesk today, as you may judge from my prattle below.

Spent some time balefully eyeing off the current incarnation of Hunstman Spider: Next Gen - this one is a lot more feisty than its great-grand-daddy but -as with his forebears - we've come to an agreement. We've nominated a plimsoll line for the wall, as it were, beyond which I do not venture.

In return, Son of Spider (I've christened him Steve) keeps every single one of his eight hairy legs above the picture rail. But -to muddle my imagery- he is full of spidey-testosterone and insists on agressively patrolling his borders like some boundary rider in a spaghetti western. I can't wait until he hits spidery middle age and settles down in a top corner of the room to peaceably watch Midsomer Murders, preferably when I'm out.*

Aside from glaring at the spider, quite some time was spent fossicking in cupboards. Unearthed my 1970s wallpaper skirt with a crow of delight, with further excavation leading to boots and all sorts of frippery that I will probably never wear.

I then tortured Steve: Son of Spider with an uninhibited display of my best/worst retro style dancing. This should serve as a declaration of intent, warning him that I have big clompy boots and I'm not afraid to squish him if he engages in hostile activity or takes up residence in my sock drawer. And that I will boisterously sing whatever earworm is going around my pea brain at him without compunction. La Belle Dame Sans Merci had nothing on me.

Somewhat in keeping with my wallpaper skirt...here is today's earworm, which supplied Steve his name.

As you can see, I spent very little time thinking about getting a quality blip together - very much an ad hoc day, although I briefly incorporated a mirrorball at one point before deleting it again...
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*It's not the spider I would object to- it's Midsomer .