It is nearing the end of day 3. I have baked a pie. I spent hours in a texting conversation. I am running out of activities and people to call. My eyebrows have reached Ernie status.
Officially stir crazy. I must get out.
Earlier today, I cracked the iced shell encassing my car and ventured around the corner to the 7 Eleven. Literally 3 turns into the parking lot from my parking lot. This is what I find:
Is this the end? Will I have to wrestle this 300 lbs guy for the last of the Slim Jims?
Certainly not. I eek back home at 10 miles per hour. The streets are still slushy and my tires slide.
I am in my living room once again. My mind is running wild. What to do? What to do?
How do the caterpillars do it? They change! Metamorphosis they call it. As the cocoon encapsulates the caterpillar, does she feel fear? The process will essentially dissolve the former being, processes take place, and a butterfly emerges. Does the caterpillar know then end from the beginning or does she just change?
You see what being in the house three days does to you? It makes you think about butterflies. . .and Slim Jims.