When they told us about Buddhist monks who never ventured outdoors after dark, for fear of stepping on ants or grasshoppers, I was captivated. It smacked of the kind of fantasy that I had always assigned to those stories that foster doubt. You know the ones- bottomless wells; the hook on the car door after leaving lover's lane; the late show on the last night of the fair at the hoochie-coochie show, where they showed everything.
Well, sir, I ended up one of those folks who will do anything to avoid hurting a living creature. I venture out after dark, but not often. It's not really because of bugs, so much, but that's a different story, for another blog. I'm not really a Buddhist. I suppose I'm more of a mutt, when it comes to denomination.
The day has come to treat my house for termites and my heart breaks. I've managed to relocate the albino frog family from the front porch and I've arranged for some new digs for a few lizards who call the carport home.
Now, I'm not crazy and I don't want my house to fall down. I would be lying, however, if I denied that I have dreaded this event.
This is a long-winded explanation of why there won't be blogs for a few days.
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