Teeny, Tiny Fingers

A new day dawns and seems just like the day before. Still raining, still no computer, still trying to master this odd contraption called an iPad. My husband, being an Internet guru professionally, got this thing so he would be up to speed with the latest technology. That was a couple of years ago, and it has lain on a shelf in the broom closet since then, brought out for use during the occasional power outage or road trip. But now it is being asked to do a real job, and it comes up short. For example, I cannot load a photo, try as I might. And it is beyond me to understand how people tolerate having to switch to a completely other keyboard to put in punctuation or numbers. But enough about that.

This morning I found a dead mouse lying on the hot tub deck. He was so cute, straight out of a Disney movie. He was not only dead but also soaked, since the rain has been non-stop for days. (I suspect foul play--most probably Big Lurch killed him, since the other cats have not ventured outside in bad weather for years.) I wrapped his wet, lifeless, mushy body in an editorial from the Wall Street Journal, then put that in a plastic bag from Shaw's supermarket and placed the whole megilla in the garbage pail. I felt bad about this, seeing as how our dead fish in Rhinebeck got a decent burial, and they weren't even as evolved as the mouse. The mouse had hands and feet, and teeny little fingers. For all I know he was a pianist back in Mouseland. But I did not know this mouse! He had such teeny, tiny fingers...he would have had no trouble at all using an iPad.