Eddo Fingerlings all—!
It’s true that I haven’t blogged very often. Little Rat hogs the computer most of the time, with a few interruptions by Ugly Dog, and so I am content to follow my more intellectual pursuits.
Intellectual pursuits? you query.
Indeed, I reply.
After all, one of my constant companions is the newspaper. Yes, an honest-to-bird physical newspaper, made out of paper, and filled with many things, often including news. But I also enjoy the horoscopes (I’m a Gemini), the crossword puzzles, the movie reviews, the sport scores, and the ads—especially those for fast automobiles and the satisfaction-guaranteed cure for fungus toenails.
It is fortunate that my interests are so varied, because on any given day, Fingers1 is apt to put just about any section of the newspaper in my cage. Sadly, it is usually the local rag, something called U-T San Diego. I much prefer Sundays, when there is some chance that Fingers2 will allow me to gaze upon the estimable New York Times with him.
It is because of my higher education that I knew what had happened the other day, and knew there was no need to panic.
It’s true: I had woken up as the subject of a Franz Kafka novel. I had grown so rapidly during my evening slumbers that I no longer fit in my domicile:
Ack! My Cage Shrank! Or Wait, I Grew! Waddya Mean, You Can Barely See Me? I’M RIGHT HERE! Getmeouttahere!
See? Calm as a Conure. It’s a new phrase taking the world by storm. (You’re welcome.)
I calmed down even more when I chanced to look out the window and see that Fingers1 was hard at work cleaning my beloved home. About time, too.
My Cage Is Lying Around OUTSIDE! In Bits and Pieces. Will Fingers1 Be Able To Put Humpty Together Again?!
Later, I was returned to my rightful place. Whew—although I remained calm, I think it is much nicer NOT to be in a Kafkaesque situation.
I’m Not Sure My Cage Is Any Cleaner, But At Least I Am Back To My Appropriate Size.
Well, Fingerlings, that’s all the news that’s fit to print from here. Catch you later, okay?