© Bruce Goodman 6 May 2015
Margaret Clatworthy was in a fluster. She had been busy all day. She had guests coming for dinner.
On rising early she fed the cat and had a quick breakfast.
She cleaned the house from top to bottom, including the tub; as if the visitors would want a quick, pre-prandial bath or something. Anyway, the bathroom was spotless. The beds were made, the carpets vacuumed. She had even cleaned the oven.
Then she dashed into town to get the groceries. It was a twenty minute drive one way. She had forgotten the nibbles so had to dash back.
Mid-afternoon she began to prepare the meal. Flowers! She rushed to the garden to pick flowers to brighten the rooms. That jolly cat had scratched the soil onto the footpath, so things needed a sweep.
Soon she would shower and get dollied up. Just need to give the cat its dinner. Oh dear! There’s no cat food left, and it can’t starve. Quickly she jumped in the car and hurried off to town. Cat food! Cat food! It was a quick trip.
On the driveway, upon arriving home, she ran over the cat.