First, sorry about the technical difficulties with last week’s blog. Next, I’d like to address my somewhat judgmental previous posting about Kell’s cousin Sheila. I may have been too harsh in my assessment, as I really don’t know her. She moved to Domain while I was at Beige, so I’ve really just based my opinion of her on what I’ve heard from Kell. As an adult, I shouldn’t let secondhand information be my only source before I go shooting off my mouth.
This leads to the story of what happens when I woke up last weekend. As usual, I was in my bed with the puncture-resistant sheets, and Fenton hung from the ceiling. The window next to the bed was open to let in the fresh air.
At 5:00 p.m. (which we refer to as “morning” when it’s just the two of us talking), I went into the bathroom where I noticed what looked for all the world like two bite marks. My imagination went into hyperdrive, and for five minutes I panicked at the idea that Fenton had inherited his vampirism from his mother, and had fed off me.
Tree set me straight. She had reached into the room through the window in order to place pine cones in my quills so that I would unwittingly distribute them. In doing so, her needles had caused the wounds on my neck. (We’ve been giving her pine cones to Mr. Squirrel and his family, but I think Tree figured out that they were just being eaten and came up with this alternative.)
Fenton and I were able to laugh about it a few moments later, but it still wasn’t my finest hour. As a scientist I’m supposed to be above letting fear and suspicion take over so easily...as it did for those who didn’t show up at my wedding. Maybe I’m not so different from them after all.
Am I?