As days turned to nights, nights became days again making the difference as semantic as silly as the Sun surrounded and silhouetted her leaving her sleek, graceful and equine as her decision became final, against suggestions to the contrary, not to call before digging. The impulse to dig had come as suddenly as its execution for why should the heretofore theoretical existence of buried wires call for any sort of forbearance that the far more real threats from the true owners of the land had - assuring her, as they did, that their retribution would also call for damage to her decorative landscaping. Really, she reasoned, there was probably already a parallel world where she had already begun digging; probably one where she was even done in addition to those of the sort of mystical mitosis perched in present potential as her digging would either run aground on the electric snakes or not. There was maybe even another world where her damn silhouette wasn't so horse-like, she thought, as the sudden futility of any sort of action in any of the infinite worlds instead inspired in her a brand of melancholy and a taste for fried rice.