As I was sorting and rinsing fresh strawberries, I found a slug near the bottom of the last box. I set him and his strawberry aside in an empty box and while I continued sorting and rinsing, I considered what to do with him. I wanted to take him outside but I’d already taken off my pants and poured a glass of wine.
As an intermediate measure, I added a few more strawberries to his box, the damaged ones that I would toss in the compost anyway, and put his small box in a larger box so he wouldn’t get lost in the kitchen should he leave the confines of the strawberry box.
Before I sat down with my strawberries and wine, I took him out on the balcony so I could take some photos in the natural light. Fortunately we live high enough up the people at the bus stop couldn’t see me kneeling pantsless while photographing a slug. Not that it would’ve stopped me otherwise.
When I take out the recycling later, I’ll carry him (and his strawberry) to a hedge.
(Also, yes, as far as I’m concerned pants are just periods of uncomfortable social convention that interrupt my natural state of pantslessness. Unless my legs are cold. Then pants are okay.)