If we have a spider on the bedroom ceiling, OH has to go and get the hoover. Can you imagine the scene? There I am, OUTSIDE the room and peering round the door, while he holds the hose up to the ceiling, and me saying, "left a bit, left a bit, ok now." If he misses and the spider runs, I scream and OH nearly falls off the bed with shock. It doesn't help when I have to say, "Not that left, the other one." (cos I'm dyslexic and have trouble with lefts and rights).