Note to Self: Stop Blogging about Caterpillars

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson after what happened to poor old Homer and Herodotus. But nooo, I had to go and write about
the happy little caterpillar who found its way to my kitchen windowsill
and spent the past week munching my geranium to shreds. I celebrated
his presence the night before last, and then all day yesterday he was
nowhere to be seen. Mysterious, I thought, but honestly I wasn’t
searching too hard.

Well, this morning I found him: curled up sideways in the dirt in
the bottom of the pot. Poor little thing. He thought this was a
friendly place. Little did he know he had entered the Caterpillar House
of Doom. If caterpillars could write there’d be a cautionary chalk mark on our doorpost right now, I’ll bet.

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