Another journal

Like taking pictures of dead bugs I’ve found.

A conversation with Chase last week:
Me: So, I found this dead squirrel on the walk home today, but I did not pick it up.
Him: I’m proud of you.
Me: Yeah, it was just the pelt, which is weird, and since there were no bones, I didn’t see the use. And it was like, matted dirty.
Him: I’m a little less proud of you.
Me: And I didn’t have anything to put it in, except the bag that had part of my lunch to eat on the train, so I had to leave it.
Him: Well, I was proud of you for a little.

I think one of his primary concerns is that the dead bird I picked up a year ago is sitting in our fridge still, because I haven’t decided what to do with it yet.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.