It’s an impressive thing to watch him move. Small in stature, by anyone’s description. I watch him. Wondering about him, questioning his motion. He might be small but he is almost as round. His scurry as he moves from one corner of the room to the other is obstructed by his waddle. An unusual combination. A questionable description even. I rack my brains for another word, or two. None arrive so I settle for those I have. And then he’s gone. Even inch of rotund, short, waddling, scurry of him. And I wonder, where the last 10 minutes went. Yup. One of those days. Here I am at 10pm with nothing to write about but some random beetle on my living room floor. Sigh. Procrastinating.

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