Today was the last official town day of 2025, since next Thursday is Christmas.
I’m sure we’ll still end up in town a few times between now and New Year’s Eve, but Thursday has been our town day since 1990, the day we get groceries and run our errands.
You can’t wake that man when he wants to sleep.
Ladybird went full “Cujo” at the window around 8, and he yelled at her, so really, he should’ve just gotten up then instead of going back to bed.
And yes, I know he didn’t get home until 1:38 a.m. and didn’t get to bed until 2 a.m.
We didn’t take long at the store since he wanted to get back home.
We shopped as quick as we could.
I’m sure we forgot something, but we’ll be back out sometime between now and Christmas.
We were home well before 1 p.m.
So what was the big rush?
Honestly, he just wanted to get home so he could go back to sleep.
I try to be understanding.
On a shift, he’s cleaning the pit, fixing equipment, welding, and working with chemicals.
He lubricates motors, checks belts and rollers, inspects safety gear, and crawls through the high factory ceiling.
He squeezes into tight spaces between machines just to get to what’s broken.
They’ve had him out there installing speed bumps with a sledgehammer.
He hauls tools, replaces parts, clears jams, watches for leaks and pressure changes, and deals with whatever goes wrong in the middle of the night, even spills and clogged drains.
It’s everything a maintenance worker does, and he’s 66 doing it night after night.
On top of that, his doctor suspects neuropathy, and he’s got severe arthritis in his knees.
They’ve told him there’s basically no cartilage left.
He’s dealt with high blood pressure since his early 30s, along with high cholesterol.
He has sleep apnea, doesn’t feel rested, and worked shift work for years, which threw his sleep cycle off.
With the strain of his job and everything he’s dealing with, it’s no surprise he’s worn out most of the time.
So yes, I do feel for him.
He got his nap in, and then he was up again, grabbing his stuff and heading out the door for work.
After he left, Raven was asleep, and Badger was in her room.
She’s made a mess through the house and in her room.
She’s trying to clean up where her back wall molded, which means her things are piled in my living room.
She’s moving slow, and Raven’s kids are supposed to come down tomorrow.
Right now there isn’t a place to put them, and they sure can’t be in the living room.
I’m shutting my eyes, gritting my teeth, and ignoring the mess.
It is what it is.
At least my laundry is caught up, and the kitchen is clean, give or take Badger’s overflow.
Just before 5 p.m., she got tired of her mess and trying to dig her way out of it, and told me I needed some air, so we took a long walk down to the creek church.
Then we came home and watched TV until 8:30 p.m.
We’ll have to do a panicked kamikaze cleanup tomorrow before the kids get here.
Luckily it’s baskets and boxes, and she can shove them all back in her room.
She won’t be able to move around in there, but it is what it is.
So at 9 p.m. I was heading off to bed, last load in the dryer, everything put up.
Heron sends me a text, “I found a box of your towels down here. I’ll bring them up later.”
“Well, are they clean?”
“No, they’re dirty.”
I asked Badger to help me, and we walked down to the RV to pick up a whole box of dirty towels.
They’re washing now.
I’ll deal with them in the morning.
The real question is when that boy stole a box of my towels.
And how we didn’t notice we were running low.
Well, maybe Cowboy noticed.
He’s been complaining about the lack of towels.
I’m off here for now, because tomorrow looks like it’s going to be busy.