Broderick hates spiders, he thinks he can single handedly take on 4 ninjas, but he cringes at the mere thought of spiders. Even the daddy long legs bring out the shoe thrower in him. We had size 14-foot prints all over our ceiling in the last house. And he can’t even bring himself to give them a proper burial. He’d leave their curled up corpses for the dogs to find. So when six little spiders climbed out of our Christmas tree on Sunday night, he resorted to new type of torture. The vacuum. Now he’s obsessed. Our vacuum spent the whole weekend in the middle of the living room poised for an arachnid. We didn’t realize by buying a tree from a charity that supports the homeless (which Jessica found on line) that we were expected to bring the homeless home. Since our tree arrived we’ve found about 14 stowaway spiders climbing out of the needles. I finally put the vacuum away, but Broderick’s finger is itching for the vacuum’s trigger.
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