I'm just trying to have a gourd time with as much pumpkin spice as I can

Badger and I started the morning out walking over the tracks to the yard sale in front of the school.
She’d been eyeing a leather jacket since yesterday.
They had no price on it, so I took it up to the table, and it was $50—I think she said originally they paid $200 for it.

Well, that jacket went back on the rack.
I guess that was a fair price, but you could tell she’d brought it out of storage—and her storage building is basically a big barn.
It would need dry cleaning, and I'm not even sure there's a dry cleaner close by anymore.

By the time we got back home, Cowboy was awake, which surprised me.
He didn't get to bed until 4:52 AM—they worked him over again.
We spent the day on the road; we left at 11 AM and got home at 3:30 PM.
Badger and I told him we were going to let him rest today, but he insisted on taking us to the WP Bookstore.
Badger spent an eternity in there.
Seriously, I thought we were going to have to put in a cot and a coffee maker.
I used to be like her, but these days I'm just too exhausted to want to linger long.
I may fuss a bit, but I’d rather she dilly-dally in a bookstore and buy books than wander a mall and come home with overpriced bull.

We made a stop at Walmart. 
I'm starting to suspect that my jug lemonade was a summer exclusive—this was the third Walmart that hasn't carried it.
We made a quick trip through the Goodwill—I found a few more t-shirts I have absolutely no room for but couldn't pass.
I probably should have looked for sweats. 
I don't have many of those and will be needing them soon.
I don't think they've started putting winter out yet, though.

A stop at Dunkin’s—what?
It’s pumpkin season, duh.
I had Badger add six pumps of pumpkin spice—it comes with three—to my drink.
She and Cowboy fussed that it was excessive, but 🤷🏻‍♀️
To be honest, I’ve had COVID twice, and it seems that my sense of taste and smell has never fully recovered.
It’s hit or miss—I never know on a given day whether I’ll be able to smell or taste or not.
I’m sure people will say I’m just crazy, but I mean, it is what it is.

Home, I figured Cowboy would rest. 
He went outside; I lost him, looked next door, and he was mowing Van Gogh's yard—and I learned his name. 
It starts with an R.

Cowboy said Van Gogh’s girlfriend told Van Gogh he couldn’t use a zero-turn or a riding mower—that was lazy. 
He had to use a push mower.
Well, that yard is 0.46 acre. 
Not a dot.
A push mower would take three to four hours easy—and when the grass is above the knees like it was today, you’re never going to get done.
Put her rear end out there and see how quick her tune changes.
I don’t know where they came from, but apparently she has no concept of how big that lot actually is.
I’ve got the same acreage myself.
Anyone who calls using a riding mower ‘lazy’ either hasn’t done it or doesn’t plan to.
Cowboy took pity and mowed it with his zero-turn.
If Van Gogh keeps at it—mows every other day—he might be able to use the push mower.
But that’s a big “might.”

Badger cooked supper—and kicked me out of the kitchen. 
She made us salmon, rice, and candied pineapple—oh, and veggie egg rolls. 
Pretty tasty.
While she was cooking, I did a bit of she-shed sitting. 
It feels good out there, although this seems to be spider birthing season.

We got supper eaten, then Cowboy and Heron—he got off work early today—went out to weed whack.

Badger and I checked out two caves she wants to go to for her birthday on YouTube—one I suggested, and the one she insists on going to. 
I told her we’d do this for her birthday, but I’d sit in the car while she and her dad do the tour. 
I’m not fricking Batman—I don’t do caves.
Cowboy isn’t afraid of anything, as far as I can tell—except maybe chihuahuas and doctors.

Then it was TV time, and type-this-up time, and now I'm heading to bed. 
I'm so, so sleepy.