Always Choose the Right Word

You hear it over and over again, always choose the right word when you write. 

The other day I popped open the composter to dump in coffee grounds or vegetable peels.  We’d just assembled this one so it held a compliment of sticks and little else.  As the lid popped up, a little brown behind with a bare-naked tail ran down a branch.  “There’s a rodent in the composter,” I yelled to my husband.

“A what?”  he asked.

“I don’t know.  It’s too big to be a mouse but the tail looked too short to be a rat.” 

He raised his eyebrows sceptically.  Yeah, I know.  It was probably a wood rat but I like believing that it is some mysterious third option. 

“What are you going to do about it?” I was still holding my pot full of scraps and waved them in his direction.  Obviously, I wasn’t communicating clearly.  “Come here and dump this in because I do NOT want something running across my naked toes!”  As usual between May and October, I was in flip-flops.

Once I had gotten my point across, he took care of the task, but not without a parting comment.  “So, you communicate for a living?”

Always, always pick the right words.