"It's real thoughtful of you to do that, Charlotte," he said.
"Yes," she replied in her sweet, musical voice. "I always give them an anesthetic so they won't feel pain. It's a little service I throw in."
Like Wilbur, I admire people who seem to manage their lives well. People who have it all together. Charlotte is self-sufficient. She builds her own home, traps her own food, and sets her own schedule. If I were a pig on a farm, I'd probably appreciate the life of a spider, too.
Even thought I'm not working today, I'm still busy. I had an English Department meeting to attend this morning, and now I'm in my university office for some office hours. I'm going to do my daily blogging, and then I have to finish writing a cover letter for a job for which I'm applying. That's my big task to accomplish before my head hits the pillow tonight.
Of course, I'm pretty much my own boss today. Don't have to punch a time clock. My posts don't have to be done this afternoon, and I could write that cover letter any time I want this weekend. I'm choosing to do these things now. Spinning my own web, trapping my own flies, so to speak. I like that kind of freedom. I'm more productive working at my own pace. Nobody looking over my shoulder.
I like being busy. It makes me feel like I'm contributing to the world in some way. That may be a false impression. Really, the only things I'm contributing to the world today are two insignificant blog posts, and I'm not convinced that really makes a difference. Maybe it does. Maybe there are people out there in the ether of the Internet who depend on my daily words to fill some void in their lives. Maybe.
Or maybe they just read my Friday posts for my weekly fairy tale.
Once upon a time, a pig farmer named Fritz lived on the edge of a huge forest. Fritz was pretty self-sufficient. He had a barn full of hay and manure. His pigs were large and content. Fritz spent his days thinking about how lucky he was.
You see, Fritz, from the time he was a little boy, had always wanted to be a pig farmer. It was his dream. Which was a little strange, since Fritz came from a family of accountants. When Fritz told his father about his plan to raise pigs for a living, Fritz's father said, "Make sure you deduct your hay purchases as a business expense."
Yup, Fritz was living his dream. Then, one night, just as he was dozing off in bed, Fritz heard the voice of God.
"Hey," God called.
Fritz tried to ignore the voice. He'd had a long day shoveling manure.
"Hey," God called again. "Hey, hey, hey, hey--"
"What?!" Fritz finally answered, sitting up.
"I just wanted you to know that I'm going to flood the world tomorrow and kill every living creature on the planet," God said. "So you better get to the ark I told you to build."
Fritz shook his head. "What are you talking about? You didn't tell me to build an ark."
God said, "Is this 215 Sycamore Drive?"
Fritz said, "No, that's one cottage over. Noah lives at 215 Sycamore."
"Oh," God said. "Never mind."
Fritz went to sleep.
The next morning, it started to rain. And it rained. And rained. And rained. Fritz and his pigs drowned in the Great Flood.
Moral of the story: keep an extra ark in the barn for emergencies.
And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.
|Don't forget to pack some extra paddles, too|