Once again, I have tarried in complacency. A twennight has elapsed between the present and previous compositions, and yet each time I reach for my quill and parchment, I find myself without words. Days pass in uniformity, and recollections of my former adventures recede into the pea soup fog of memory.
Since my home makeover, little has transpired. I take pleasure in my renovated surroundings, and I continue to accumulate biomass in preparation for my next molt. I even had the joy of sampling a bit of scallop yesterweek, which I nearly inhaled, with great relish. Other than that small highlight, there is naught to report.
These uneventful times provide ample opportunity to compose the second chapter of my life history. Unfortunately, the repetitive diel rhythms--and indeed the very lack of eventfulness--continue to obscure my memories. My only hope is that the changing of the seasons will arouse my memory. We invasive crayfish do, after all, possess superior memories to the native species (Hazlett et al. 2002).
In the mean time, I would like to thank my dear readers, who, I have recently learned, hail from hither and yon. In addition to readership throughout my home state of Maine, there are readers from 23 states and nine countries! Ah, if I could only visit the far off lands of South Korea or Thailand--Italy or Sweeden--and converse with those oganisms who read my tales. Yet I find comfort in the knowledge that my words reach these distant lands--and I find new motivation to write.
Since my home makeover, little has transpired. I take pleasure in my renovated surroundings, and I continue to accumulate biomass in preparation for my next molt. I even had the joy of sampling a bit of scallop yesterweek, which I nearly inhaled, with great relish. Other than that small highlight, there is naught to report.
These uneventful times provide ample opportunity to compose the second chapter of my life history. Unfortunately, the repetitive diel rhythms--and indeed the very lack of eventfulness--continue to obscure my memories. My only hope is that the changing of the seasons will arouse my memory. We invasive crayfish do, after all, possess superior memories to the native species (Hazlett et al. 2002).
In the mean time, I would like to thank my dear readers, who, I have recently learned, hail from hither and yon. In addition to readership throughout my home state of Maine, there are readers from 23 states and nine countries! Ah, if I could only visit the far off lands of South Korea or Thailand--Italy or Sweeden--and converse with those oganisms who read my tales. Yet I find comfort in the knowledge that my words reach these distant lands--and I find new motivation to write.
you are the only google result for 'twennight'.
for perplexed readers, it means three weeks.
I suddenly feel very old fashioned ... for a crayfish!