I think it's finally happened. I can't say I'm surprised, given that anyone around me would agree that perhaps, just maybe, I read too much. Not that they would say it really, but I get smirks and glances when I settle down for a few stolen moments with a good book. And a few stolen hours in the evening. And during the day too, if Birdy is taking a nap. But anyway.
I think I may have reached the point in my life where I might have read too much. In particular, I might have reached critcial mass with historical fiction.
This is Birdy, eating her cheese and "bapples" for lunch, a la my Grandpa Bill.
See the nice plant in the right of the picture? It's a good plant. It's from Ikea. It also has had fruit flies in it for the last month, regardless of what I've threatened or done to them. But this time, at this lunch, I'd had enough.
So. I got out a toothpick (you know, like a pike).
And then I killed a fruit fly (which I thought about beheading, but realized that I didn't have the precision instruments to do so).
And then I put his body on the toothpick. As a warning to his friends and comrades that their time is numbered.
I'll just be over here, thinking about the things I've done. Don't mind me.