He was talking to me. I thought he wanted to go out. I opened the front door. He sat there, muttering at me, while a moth the size of Cincinnati flew straight at my mouth, then over my head.
I went to the pantry and grabbed the flyswatter. The evil moth was lurking on the ceiling in the hall. I took a mighty swing but only grazed him. He flew off to parts unknown.
I took my knitting into the bathroom for safekeeping, plugged my phone into the charger, and shut the door.
The cat yowled again. Beloved opened the back door, and the cat sauntered outside.
I hope he got eaten by a moth.
(P.S. In knitting news, the additional yarn came from Knit Picks. Same dye lot. Knit Picks, unlike our cat, rocks!)
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!