Barring the odd thunderstorm the weather lately has been divine. So yesterday morning I was outside working on reformatting possibly the most mind-bending form ever. Things were going along nicely and I thought I was nearly done, when I realised there was another half a page of information I hadn't put in yet. Once again, defeat was snatched from the jaws of Victory. Or something.
Being deeply irritated over this I pottered off and weeded the sweet-corn bed (which has produced about 4 sweetcorn plants from the rows and rows of seed I put in - I hate gardening). When I returned to the laptop, I found I had company.
Being a 'Real Woman' I elected to catch the frog With My Bare Hands and put it somewhere it bit more friendly and dog-free. Normally I'd pop a glass over it and scoop it up on a magazine or something. But No. I had to be a Real Woman.
I pounced on the frog, who apparently was way ahead of my lightening reflexes, it panicked jumped onto my arm, I panicked, it panicked more and headed for the nearest cover - which happened to be under my hat - you know, where my head was.
I won't go into the next events, suffice to say there was a great deal of girly shrieking which set off every dog in the vicinity.
The frog, having more of a brain than me, bugged out quickly, landed back on the table with a plop - and waited quietly until I'd calmed down, and fetched a glass and a magazine. It is now living happily in the weeds behind the cubby house.
Yesterday was my day for wildlife it seems.