Abner is shuffling out to the front porch of his brick mid-century where a row of hanging spider ferns continue to petrify. He notices them just twice a year, on December 24th when he strings bubble lights across them and again on January 2nd when he takes the lights down. By then he’s too tired to do anything about the plants, and the next day he’s forgotten again. The bubble lights are on every hazard list known to man, but Abner doesn’t care. He likes a little risk in life . . .