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rejectomorphThe woodpeckers were partying again this afternoon. They seem to have more fun than anybody else in the neighborhood. Well, of course! They don't have to vacuum, or clean a stove, or write checks to utility companies. I was clearly born as a member of the wrong species. I should have been born a cat, so I could kill and eat those hedonistic, layabout woodpeckers.
Woodpecker envy is a terrible thing.
It looks like the semi-stormy weather is over for now. There were few clouds today, and the sky is expected to be mostly clear for at least the next week. There's little more than a week of summer remaining, so we won't get rain before fall. I often get a bit morose during the final days of summer. It's not because I'm going to miss it, but because by the time the equinox rolls around I'm usually exhausted from the months of heat. I intend to celebrate with the exuberance of a woodpecker the first really cool day of autumn.
Oh, there's a tiny spider crawling on my wall, no bigger than the head of a pin, and that's including its legs. I probably get a lot of those in the house but never notice them. Perhaps they don't know I'm here either. But I wonder what they eat? It's hard to picture food smaller than a spider smaller than the head of a pin. Whatever it is, it's probably not pizza. My long-delayed dinner isn't going to be pizza either. Just pasta. I ought to have started making it two hours ago. I guess I'll make it now.
Woodpecker envy is a terrible thing.
It looks like the semi-stormy weather is over for now. There were few clouds today, and the sky is expected to be mostly clear for at least the next week. There's little more than a week of summer remaining, so we won't get rain before fall. I often get a bit morose during the final days of summer. It's not because I'm going to miss it, but because by the time the equinox rolls around I'm usually exhausted from the months of heat. I intend to celebrate with the exuberance of a woodpecker the first really cool day of autumn.
Oh, there's a tiny spider crawling on my wall, no bigger than the head of a pin, and that's including its legs. I probably get a lot of those in the house but never notice them. Perhaps they don't know I'm here either. But I wonder what they eat? It's hard to picture food smaller than a spider smaller than the head of a pin. Whatever it is, it's probably not pizza. My long-delayed dinner isn't going to be pizza either. Just pasta. I ought to have started making it two hours ago. I guess I'll make it now.
