I wandered into the kitchen without putting the light on.
In my stockinged feet* I almost stood on something.
Fortunately I stopped before putting my full weight on it.
I bent to pick it up.
It moved.
It was a toad**
Why is there a toad in my kitchen?
*What a lovely old-fashioned phrase that is!
** Stockinged feet. Toad. There has to be a joke in there.
Sorry. My OCD won.
-
(If you subscribe to my art substack, this letter is already waiting for
you in your mailbox, but I’m sharing it here too in case you don’t do
substack but...

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