Where in the world is time going?!
Heron didn’t get home until 12:30 a.m.
Not working, it was Friday, and he’s young.
Cowboy got home at 1:30 a.m.
He was working, and he’s not young.
Badger had to take her iron at 8 a.m., and she keeps it in my room because anything left in her room has a way of vanishing.
So I went ahead and got up.
I was hoping Hot Mess was back up at the school.
If she had been, we could have walked up there together, watched the sunrise and shared some coffee.
But Hot Mess wasn’t anywhere near this area, and the sun had already come up around 6:15 a.m.
I went into the kitchen, started the dishwasher, and hand‑washed the few things in the sink that weren’t dishwasher‑safe.
My eight-thirty alarm for my medicine went off, and the dishwasher was so loud I could barely hear it. I’m pretty sure it woke up Heron.
He went to the bathroom and then curled right back up on the couch.
I really do wish we had a spare bedroom for him.
I guess he could use Raven’s room when Raven is not here, but Raven would probably fuss about it.
At eight forty-four in the morning, Badger must have gotten an energy rush, because she shoved me out the door and announced we were taking a walk.
First, we fed Lamont the stray, then we let Heron’s cats out on their catio and turned the air conditioner off.
After that, we took a mile-long walk, and it was actually pleasant out.
Very quiet at that time of the day.
Heron looked asleep, and Cowboy had not come out of the bedroom yet.
Badger took the dogs out, came back in, and started cooking a full breakfast.
She and the fellows had sausage, biscuits, gravy, and fried potatoes.
She made me a kale omelet.
She also made a smoothie for the two of us.
She is determined to get fruit into me one way or another.
I was at my computer, of course.
I usually am.
Cowboy came out of the bedroom at ten-thirty in the morning and asked, “Is my breakfast cooked?”
He’s been asking that for thirty years, and the answer has always been the same: “Oatmeal is in there.”
I used to make him breakfast, but he always had something to complain about, so when the kids came along, I handed him a box of instant oatmeal and a kettle and said, “There’s breakfast.”
Anyway, he got fooled this morning.
He actually had breakfast.
And true to form, he complained that the biscuits were too pale and the sausage was not cooked enough.
So this may be the last time he gets breakfast from Badger.
After we had eaten, Badger and I went in, peeled and put a pound of oranges in the freezer, along with I don’t know how many grapes.
My hands smelled like an orange forever. It seemed like it would never go away, and I don’t even like oranges.
We got pretty lazy this summer, and that poor kitchen showed it.
Around one in the afternoon, Cowboy headed to the bathroom to fix the shower.
I took the opportunity to grab Badger and head over to the Baptist.
We took some of the food that Raven left in my kitchen over to the Baptist’s blessing box.
It’s been sitting, and sitting, and he’s not going to eat it, so give it to someone who will.
I had to throw out two boxes of cereal that expired in May.
They may have been all right to eat, but you can’t donate out of date food.
That’s just wrong.
He muttered something about tires.
When we got home, I plopped out in the living room while Badger took Lady out to pee and then went to turn the fan on in the RV.
That way, if the cats got hot, they could go inside, and hopefully it would be cooler.
Then she went to her room and said she was going to clean.
Cowboy finished up, and we all grabbed a light snack.
It was nearly three in the afternoon, which should have been dinner, but we were still full from breakfast.
Just enough to keep us from getting hangry before supper.
It was supposed to be brand new, so I don’t know what its issue is.
Heron got back at five in the afternoon.
We ate supper at six in the evening.
Badger and I have a routine, and we rarely stray from it.
Cowboy fussed that it was too early, but he’s on a work schedule, and his supper is usually around ten in the evening.
Badger and I can’t eat that late.
That’s just too much.
With her GERD, she really can’t eat late at night, and I try not to eat past eight in the evening myself.
After supper, Cowboy went out and started cleaning out the roof where the birds have built nests.
That blew all our minds.
I’ve been fussing at him since we bought this house in 2003 to seal up that dad blasted roof so the birds wouldn’t nest in it.
Do you know how many generations of birds have nested there since?
Probably a million.
And it’s my front porch, my front door.
Not to mention getting dive bombed every time you step outside.
It will be nice to finally not have to deal with that.
Badger and I slipped out the back door.
We didn’t want to knock Cowboy off his ladder or get smacked with nasty used nesting material.
We walked down to the Methodist, but a group was playing ball, so we didn’t stop.
Another mile walk, which brings us to two miles for the day.
I thought he wasn’t going this weekend.
He and Lady pulled out of the drive at eight in the evening, and he won’t be back until Monday for work.
After he left, Badger took Duffy out back and played ball with her for a bit.
Not me. I’d already played online today and was more active than usual.
Cowboy came in around eight thirty in the evening and sat down to watch TV.
I went out and made sure Badger got all the RV cats inside and the air conditioner on for them.
As we were walking back toward the house, she said Heron had left the box fan on, so we had to go back down and unplug it.
I try to make sure nothing is plugged in out there.
I know the electricity is still running through it, and we’re using the air conditioner, but I don’t want anything extra drawing power.
We were all in and settled by nine in the evening.
Badger’s been in her room, and I actually watched TV with Cowboy for a while.
I think it’s bedtime.
Cowboy wants to go to the flea market tomorrow.
I have no idea why.
He came in right before supper.
“Are they coming down early or later tomorrow?”
I said, “Huh.”
“Raven.”
I told him Raven wasn’t bringing the kids down at all this weekend.
He’s only coming so he can go for a drug test Monday, but I don’t know what time.
I guess Cowboy just wanted to know when he could go to the flea market.
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