I think everyone who was sick is on the mend. Including the cat! I picked her up Thursday afternoon, sent home with antibiotics for a kidney/bladder infection.
I fully left Instagram. I kept falling back into it, even without a phone to scroll. I set it to private, cleaned up my follower/following, and dusted my hands. Quod scripsi, scripsi, as it were. It was my usual lament, or whine really, about social media: I get irritated by everyone’s opinions all naked and contextless.
I bought some paper, envelopes, and nicer pens to write actual letters to people. Texting on the Light Phone is slow and just tiresome enough to make me only use it functionally, in general. I’m not quite at Old Entish level (that would be texting on a phone pad, probably) but it does need to be important.
This morning, Perry called out to me. “Mooom! There is a spider in the toys’ closet!”
“Hmm. Keep an eye on it, I’m coming,” I said. I grabbed up a child’s drinking glass and a Minecraft chapter book for a container and lid to catch her in and walked his way. “How big is she, Per?”
He squinted, and held his hands about 4 inches apart. Dorothy, who had just woken up and was descending the stairs, scoffed, “It can’t be that big, Perry.” I chuckled.
She was in the corner of the closet. She was indeed about that big.
I told Dorothy to keep watching her while I returned to the kitchen for a bigger boat.
I caught her in a mixing bowl and Abby and I released her in the back garden. Godspeed, tiny eight-legged cat. Though not as tiny as one might wish you to be.
