I find myself with a case of the blahs. Not the blues...just a pervasive lassitude and no ambition. It could be the arrival of fall, I don't know. I do know the remedy, however. It's time to pull out that To-Do list, shake the dust off the dust rag, and just do it. There's no cure for the blahs like activity.
Sparrow's romance seems to have been short lived. He's once again perched alone at night, his two ladies having moved on. Was it something he said? One wonders about these things.
Spiders are believers in DIY. It sometimes happens while I'm taking a break while Ruthie or Esther is on the stand (they're nonmilkers) that I will swat a fly. Then I drop said fly into a spider web. If the fly is already dead, the spider has no interest. The trick is to just stun the pesky thing. Then the daddy longlegs will dart over for the kill and immediately begin packaging the leftovers. Unlike Mickey Mouse in The Brave Little Tailor, I can't do seven with one blow, but I've got a pretty good ratio of eight for twelve on a good day. It seems to be my mission in life to feed all. Spiders have to eat too.
Now where did I put that list?