they mostly only come out at night…mostly.
Wednesday 21 January 2004 | I like a cookie
Last night around one a.m. was another mousie capture. In hunger and desperation it ventured into the green kitchen bin, then scrabbling frantically at the sides to escape (”oh no—this is just like what happened to Mom!”) as I clapped the wooden cutting board over the top and pulled on gloves and hat and walked it down the highway to the coyote pasture where I released it grimly. Now the house is quiet and I kind of miss the rodentia. Have been sleeping with the Possum (who is stuffed, that is, with cotton batting) to compensate.
If only I had read yesterday’s Astrodienst horoscope I would have known not to get into it with the Librarian. But I didn’t and I did. NB though that he’s already begging me for email; he forwarded me an Eavan Boland poem I’ve always loved, and asked if I wanted two tickets to this evening’s reading. But I don’t need em, ha, because M. (or Husband #1 as he has taken to calling himself) has already procured them, fine modern-day hunter-gatherer that he is.
A nonsensical, incomprehensible entry.
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