"Every book is a new adventure waiting to unfold. 📖"

This could be titled Sunday at Home, or How I Was Bored but Content.

Other than Cowboy heading to morning and evening service, we didn’t leave the house until Heron came up and said he was cooking supper tonight.
Then Cowboy and I went to the Dollar Store really quickly for a TV dinner for me; I can’t handle a steak these days.
When I got home, Badger had gone out to the kitchen and made me some meatballs.
That was much appreciated.

About Badger: it’s good we’re going to the doctor tomorrow.
She seems feverish (no thermometer in the house) and just feels absolutely terrible.
She’s been sticking with liquid medication, but I’m starting to wonder if this antibiotic is doing what it’s supposed to.
That’s why her coming out to make me meatballs meant so much; she really didn’t feel up to it.

Peacock and Turtle came and stayed a good long while.
We had a storage box full of his books he needed.
We’re going to be keeping Dog and Daughter next weekend, if plans don’t change.
He and his wife are going to an adult‑only book sale; I’m fairly sure that’s what he said.
It’s a buy‑a‑ticket event, and he doesn’t know why it’s adults‑only.

As I said, Heron bought steak and grilled it outside, even though it had started to rain by the time he began cooking.
It’s good we have a carport.
Cowboy appreciated the dinner.

I saw that Loni Anderson died today.
That’s another piece of the ’80s gone.
So help me, if one more actor or singer from my childhood or teen years dies, I’m going to go bubble‑wrap myself and Cowboy.

I’m feeling terrible myself, so coherent or not, I’m putting this up as is and heading to bed.
Maybe getting soaked to the skin yesterday wasn’t good for me or for Badger.
Then, of course, we went from full‑on hot‑as‑Hades temperatures down to autumn‑cool temperatures yesterday and today.

I told Badger she and her dad could go to the doctor alone, but she said she wasn’t going to die alone with her dad. 
Heron and Peacock told us we exaggerate how badly Cowboy drives. 
We do not, and they drive just like him.

Rush hour traffic on the interstate is not something I’m looking forward to. 
Waking up at 7 a.m. isn’t either, although that’s just normal wake‑up time. 
It’s different when you have to be up, as opposed to your freaky body propelling you out of bed.