Sunday, October 07, 2007

Confuse Not Turds and Tea Leaves
















The existential debate over turds and tea leaves has little to do with Bent Wanderings, but a lot to do with the Bent Wanderer, me.

I had been noticing that I must have been growing in carelessness as I spooned my Argo loose tea leaves into the strainer to prepare my daily ritual of tea soy misto accompanied by a dash of stevia and a splash of honey. The drawer where all the accoutrements for preparation are stashed was sprinkled with fallen tea leaves. I reckoned that one day soon I would need to clean all that up.

One peep-eyed morning when I opened the drawer, what to my wondering eyes did appear was that all the extra Starbucks honey packets were nibbled open and the honey devoured, as were all the little peanut butter individual serving cups, like the ones from Fairfield Inn's Continental breakfast bar.

My stomach sank and then churned a big nauseated somersault as I realized the fallen tea leaves were none other than, you guessed it--fallen turds.

That rank discovery began the still, ongoing saga of doing battle with resilient little field critters who, I am told, are capable of squeezing through a crack the thickness of a dime. How do you defend against that, I wonder.

The death toll is 9 and counting while Fletcher, our 16 y.o. feline sleeps on oblivious to how fast his food dish empties. He seems content to rest in the comfort of knowing his needs will be met through Feline Security Disability, a.k.a. me.

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