Cat has tapes (evidence left on our bed), which is odd for indoor cat, yet this cat has a unique history, starved, scarred and saved from the brink so many years ago by DW, and now in renal failure. As we’re cleaning up the mess, the dog regresses and helps herself to DW’s dinner. What more? The shower drain doesn’t. I can’t manage the two snakes I have and we have to call in the big guns. $85 later we have a flow and stories about those things found in stacks (ours merely hair). His: a fish, a bird and the lowers of an elderly woman. Mine: pantyhose and a spaghetti dinner.
What more? I miss my brother, exacerbated by watching a BASS Championship too late at night. Kentucky Lake. Good memories, even though and partly because we were relegated to the station wagon with sleeping bags. DW wakes to find me choked, and she joins in. I take a look back at the day and realize I should have seen it coming, as much of my internal dialogue during chores dealt with his last day and what has followed.
The field burns took a two-week hiatus for reasons known only to those who burn. Accordingly, I found other distractions. Yesterday the skies filled again and patches of charred chaff littered our ground. Distant hills were obscured for the afternoon. I make plans to hit the back roads, and now that the plumber has gone, I might just go. Two hours or so should do it.
Then I will come home and pick veggies.
Dutifully, today’s post. I thank you for your indulgence.
(Edited in order not to imply that DW starved and scarred the cat.)