The exercise:
Write about: camouflage.
Max woke up early this morning, which lead to an early nap. Since it was around lunch time, I didn't join him right away. So, of course, when I did go to lie down he woke up pretty much immediately.
A late afternoon trip to the coffee shop was definitely in order.
I'm slowly catching up on comments once again. I figure that if, at worst, I do two posts per day then I'm bound to be back on track eventually.
Now all I have to do is two posts per day...
Mine:
The grass in the backyard is reaching for the top of the fence with thin, green fingers. When the wind picks up the blades sway back and forth like worshipers at some dark and unsettling ceremony, setting my teeth on edge. I keep watch from my kitchen window on those days, certain that someone or some thing is using the movement to cover his or her or its approach.
I should have had it cut while a lawnmower was still an option. Now a scythe is likely the best bet and none of the neighbourhood kids will go near it. Not that any of their parents would trust them with a giant blade.
Maybe I should wait for a dry spell and just toss a lit cigarette back there. If the fence catches, or the garage, or the neighbour's house? Acceptable collateral damage. At least to me.
But I don't smoke. And even if I wanted to pick up that horrid habit, I'd have to get to the corner store to buy a pack. Which would require stepping outside, leaving the safety of these walls far behind.
Putting myself directly in the line of fire of whatever might be lurking back there.
Oh, I hear you. Why not go through the front yard instead? As though I'm so mentally deficient that such a brazen idea would never occur to me!
Well, go on then. I dare you. Go see if the front yard is any better than the back.