Monday, January 23, 2012

A Tale of Waldo, or Murphy, or ...

Nick comes upstairs and interrupts my almost nap:
N: Mom, there's a huge spider on the wall.
Me: I know, it was there earlier; you can name it if you want.
He didn't, but I am.

Here's Waldo, or Murphy, or whatever you want to call him, or her. I made it drop to the floor where Flame chased it out of the bathroom and into the hall to the library where it found shelter under a bookcase. So now, where's Waldo? or Murphy? or Whomever? Maybe he'll make it to Nick's bed and he'll wake me from my sleep...again. Because he's 13. And that's old enough to still wake Mom to take care of the spiders in the house.


  1. you're a better, kinder woman than I...Waldo would've been toast at my house..unless it was warm weather, then I'd throw him outside! :-)

  2. Yup. I'm with MB up there, except it'd be toast in my house in the summer, too. I was bit by a brown recluse two summers ago and spent 5 days in the hospital ... I had a respect for spiders before; now they send me into a tizzy! LOL! :)


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