Okay, I didn't do it, for I bear any Water Fairies no Ill Will. This is all my Favorite Husband's fault, and I am willing to testify against him thusly in court. If you can pay me the big bucks as an expert witness, so much the better. I'm not sure if this is an illustration of Occam's Razor or Hannah Arendt's Banality of Evil, so I shall leave it for you to decide for yourself.

So two paths converged in the woods, so to speak, this past weekend. Since the Deathtrap died I was at the mercy of my Favorite Husband, at least until we could get another vehicle from his work, so we ended up driving around a lot together doing all the stupid little errands we usually do individually. And in driving around we happened to pass a bridge we frequently drive over in our individual and cooperative travels, one that bridges the shallow stream/brook/river which is the ultimate outlet of the reservoir up the mountain near our house.

This bridge is MILES and MILES away from the reservoir, and unless you wished to study the geography of the area and/or you are avid hikers/explorers like Mojo and her Favorite Husband, you might not know this, any more than you would know if you take the paths along the southern bank of this brook and go upstream a bit the paths eventually take you to this big ol' abandoned rock quarry complete with a water-filled quarry pond where they used to cut out the rock. And someone stocked it with fishies. I think they're just junk fish, like carp. But I digress.

Anyway, as we go over the bridge my Favorite Husband suddenly says, "Hey, ya know, by the way, a few months ago I saw X standing here on the bridge looking down at the water."  MORE Mojo! »