Love’s Labours Lost

It’s a disaster.  I am a fool!

Worse; I am a relationship wrecker.  Before it even started.  Oh, the ignominy of it all.

Eric RimLeaper is still behind the washing machine!  He is calling louder than ever.

He is still here!

So who was that green tree frog I guided out of the house the other night?  Have I just ruined Eric’s only chance at finding his one true love?  Was it a she, and was she wandering the kitchen uncertainly in search of Eric while I wrestled with my conscience before sending her out into the night?   Why didn’t Eric call or come out to greet her if he was there?  He must have known she was nearby, surely?   I am not well versed in frog etiquette, but I would have guessed there must be some way they can sense each other’s presence?

The only other explanation I can think of is that Eric knows a secret way to get back into the donga that I am not aware of.  I sincerely doubt that however because the whole place was cleared out for new flooring and doors etc after the great burglary.  If there were a gap or hole I’d have spotted it before I filled the house up again with all my junk.

If that wasn’t Eric the other night who was it?  How did the stranger get in?  Did I have two resident frogs all the time?  Why was Eric so quiet the last couple of days?  Was he sulking?

Any way you look at it, it is a conundrum.

Oh the mysteries of nature.

On reflection, if they can come and go as it seems they can, who am I to worry?  They are welcome to share the house.  I enjoy their company.  Zeus ignores them, and they seem content to be here.   Or one of them does.

It is not easy being green.    Or being landlord to someone green.

 

 

Later:  Bloody Hell. He’s louder than ever.  Every call seems like a recrimination.

 

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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