At first, I wished that I had planned this one better. Now, I'm forced into a way to insert some really rich profanity. White on white, maybe.
I never really minded the hermit life because it was by choice and I knew there was all manner of crazed doings going on out in the world- parties, parades, flash mobs, drive bys- you know, Life.
Now it's disturbing. Our town has a curfew.
I don't want to dwell on imagined outcomes, but I inherited a lot of hard times angst from that same grandmother who taught me embroidery. Not that she ever complained.
They did what they had to do. Tenant farmers during the Great Depression. She would take slivers of soap, soften them, then press them together into a multi-colored lump to keep on soaping. Teabags used all day long. Real rag rugs.
It was good to see the stores limiting the quantities of things people can buy. You pick a time window, they bag it up, email you when it's ready, you pull up and they drop it in your trunk.
Two twenty pound bags of their favorite dry food and another forty pounds of cat litter was the find.
Knowing that at least Salem (the black and white one) and this demon know how to kill stuff and go to the bathroom outside is comforting. He gets very pissy when I try to pry him out of the sewing chair.
It's my day off. Stop looking at me like that.