It smells like heaven.
He freezes it for later meals for himself, but he has no working kitchen so he borrows my kitchen and my freezer.
I walked into my kitchen and there was a pair of beer boots in my sink.
Well, okay, they're actually plastic soccer cleats, but they look more like boots.
Still, they were in my sink.
Heron works in food concessions at the baseball stadium, and I assume they were having a soccer match and decided to sell beer in these cleats.
They're not the weirdest thing I've walked into with Heron.
Growing up, I had to be super careful on laundry day when cleaning out his britches pockets.
I still have to when I sneak and do his laundry.
At least nowadays, nothing slimy and alive will pop out, I hope.
We did get Badger to the little clinic.
It wasn't a satisfying appointment, and I know she left upset and disappointed.
The problem is there aren't any obvious signs of illness to explain how she's feeling.
It's not as simple as a cough, the flu, or an ear infection where they can say, "Here's the problem," and send you home with medicine.
I think this is probably something better suited for one of her regular doctors than a walk-in clinic.
Now, I'm not saying that she doesn't feel lousy.
This time of the year, we all start feeling a little sick, and she could very well not be feeling good.
Really, this is something we should have taken to her regular doctor, but we couldn't get her in anytime soon.
But on the off chance she actually had the flu or bronchitis or, heaven forbid, COVID, I was willing to take her to the clinic.
The clinic mostly echoed what Cowboy and I had been thinking, though Badger had her own thoughts on the matter.
They gave her some things to think about going forward.
I can't really blame her for feeling frustrated by the whole thing.
She's an adult.
It's her body.
I can't make the decision for her.
Badger stepped outside and Heron had left a baseball cap on my old swing.
She caught a tiny bird making a bed in it.
A shame she didn't have her camera with her.
I've spent the whole day thinking it was Thursday.
I don't have a clue why.
Tomorrow is town day, and we want to stop at the thrift store.
Their Facebook page shows a lot of Spider-Man plushies.
Of course, by the time we get there, they'll all be gone.
They always are.
One lady said that she thinks the resellers hit as soon as the doors open.
They buy all the really good stuff here dirt cheap and then sell it at their own stores or on Marketplace at a considerable markup.
We can't wake Cowboy up when the store opens.
He needs more than four hours of sleep.
I guess I'll get off of here, go back to the bedroom, and watch TV with Badger.
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