Part two requires some backstory, so if you're just here for the spider-thrills then I shall put an alert in CAPS SHOUTY FONT when they appear.
My Husband and I could best be described as "Eccentric". Other descriptions include "Batshit crazy" and "Oh fucking hell, not them.".
We are a bit shambolic, and tend to make our money following the time-honoured feast or famine model. We also have astonishing luck (both good and bad - Husband often says if he hadn't actually been there to witness the things that happen to me he would call me a liar. Luckily, he is usually there, so we can say to each other 'Did that just happen?') and are generally happy and we have lovely friends who completely forgive us for our...oddities.
Anyway, one of my peculiarities is a weird kind of hoarding. I hide money in things to find later, always have (top tip: when you get vouchers for Christmas, put them in the box with the decorations, then come December, you have a really nice surprise.) and with my brilliant Dory-like memory for where I have put said money, we often end up with people opening books and finding £200, or once the freezer: "I was making garlic bread and then suddenly there was a load of cash". It's a hark back to the days when I didn't know if next week was going to be good or bad.
SPIDERY BIT
Whilst chasing a particularly tricksy Isembard through 'the crap room' (a room I moved a load of stuff to, including all my admin, whilst I redecorated another room) I remembered learning that Isembards like a cardboard box, so began peeling off lids and shouting "AHAAAAAA!" like a demented Alan Partridge, whilst holding a shoe.
I didn't find the Isembard, but I did find a letter in one of the boxes that I hadn't opened. Turns out that last year I invested some of the squirrel money and had completely forgotten about it.
I did give up Isembard-hunting after that, and am now worried the spiders are actually trying to help us.
Spiders aside, why was your Husband naked?
Going back to 'eccentric'....
As mentioned previously, Husband has been away working, and in public, which means he had to put some damned pants on. Our work is such that we don't have to get dressed if we don't feel like it, and Husband detests wearing any more clothes than necessary at any given moment. So having returned from and entire weekend having to get dressed every morning, he came home and immediately took all his clothes off, then spent the rest of the day enjoying the sunshine as nature intended (we have no neighbours except swans). I'm beyond arguing with it now. Sample conversation:
Me: We need to go and do XYZ thing.
Husband: But it's a lovely day, there are only so many lovely days left in the world.
Me: Put some damned trousers on.
Husband (with arms folded and giving me proper side-eye): Shan't.
I then either have to chase him, or go and do the thing myself. Guess which is quicker?
In his defence....actually I don't need to defend him, he's great the way he is.