RIP, little fishies.

I found a brand new reason why I married M. He's spent the better part of the evening playing Pet Mortician--pur two remaining fishies (Larry and Blackie) have gone on to that great big ocean in the sky. He's been so sweet about it.. Blackie was looking pretty glum this afternoon, so he made sure to go check on them so I wouldn't happen across bad news without warning. (I always had a fear of that.. I always looked at the tank through the window before I even walked in the door before we moved.) Unfortunately, when he went to check on Blackie just half an hour later or something, he found that they were both dead. I know they're goldfish and it shouldn't bother me at all, but we've had them since we've been married, minus a month or so. I mean, I'm not really upset, just vaguely sad-ish. They were exceptionally pretty, healthy fish.. well, they were until the move. They never have quite recovered, I don't think. Maybe it's something in the water.. they perished post-tank-cleaning today, so it makes sense. In any case, we are now officially not pet-owners anymore. I have to say that it's somewhat relieving in a way, but that makes me feel a little guilty so I won't go there.

Did you know that spray adhesive really doesn't want to come off if you get it on, for instance, the upper part of that web of flesh between your thumb and forefinger? No? Well, it doesn't. Just, I suppose, to add something silly and trivial to this post before I get maudlin about fish.