52/417-418: Antics

Early Sunday morning I woke to the sound of rain on the roof. It was a surprise, as I hadn't checked the forecast for a couple of days, and had forgotten that rain was predicted for early this week. But I don't think it was expected before Monday. Here it is, or was, as it is clearing up now, and probably won't be back. Spring is as unreliable as my brain.

Saturday, if I recall correctly, didn't amount to much. I ate a sandwich for dinner, then slept, or did those two things in reverse. Not important, I'm sure. Today, as yesterday, I ate an overly sweet substitute donut for breakfast, then went to have slice of cake only to discover it has been invaded by ants. It was expensive cake, so I picked the ants off and ate it anyway. I don't think any ants remained, as I didn't taste any formic acid (ants are spicy as hell, as I discovered at six, when I let an acquaintance talk me into tasting one.)

Anyway, picking ants off of a piece of cake is the most exciting thing to happen here in a long time, so I guess I should be grateful to the now-dead formicidae? Somehow I'm not, though. I found the bit of rain more enjoyable. I'll save my gratitude for the clouds that brought it.


( Sunday Verse )