There is no rest for the wicked. And that includes on Sunday.
The first half of yesterday morning was spent conversing with with my Roman Catholic Legal Counsel, Pete Sheridan, who is always working on my Apostolic Appeals for a posthumous Catholic Heaven reprieve, but also substitutes as an old and good friend, and central character in WTLLM, while I still tread this mortal coil.
He stayed on the speaker phone while I cleaned the barns, made four wheel barrow trips out to Hadrian’s Wall, replaced wood chips and shifted hay, emptied, cleaned and refilled the troughs, then detached, drained and recoiled the outdoor water hoses. Then we continued catching up while I chopped and prepped Claire and Honey’s next few meals. It made the time pass very nicely. Thanks Pete.
Claire poked her head out to see with whom I was so animatedly engaged in conversation during shit shoveling.
I then went out front and cleaned and refilled the front trough under the Old Man copes of trees, while the wind chimes serenaded me.
Lisa, who is back on her feet but still suffering severe Shingles nerve pain in her right arm, was inside doing the last of the cleaning on the first floor. I told her the repetitive motion would provide the perfect Occupational Therapy to regain full function in her right limb. She told me to fuck right off.
We no sooner both got our feet up in our recliners, ready to watch a new Amazon/BBC series called The Change – highly recommend – when the door flew open and we were invaded by a motley crew of street urchin, better yet known as The Grans.
Who then took over our reclaimed dining room table for arts and crafts projects using materials they had left hidden around Casa Claire like handy weapons before they moved out to their new home in Longmont.
And they brought their pups – Sherlock and Jasper – with them.
(How’s that for a Norman Rockwell image. In a pure Addams family twist, Stella was just practicing her choke hold on poor Sherlock. She’s a huge MMA fan. Just look at that triceps.)
Smokey hid beneath the couch for the entire occupation. More from Stella than the pups.
The Elven Georgie’s pretense for the invasion was to show us Luke’s new Tacoma that he will be using for his Denver commute to the DPD Academy beginning on December 16th. It is a muscular, toxically male vehicle with all the bells and whistles. Room for a gun rack. Beautiful.
I think the girls just wanted to trigger my near-family PTSD.
Luckily, they only stayed long enough to raid the fridge and cupboard, leave reams of used arts and crafts materials around and brighten Lisa’s day and for Luke to watch the first half of the Broncos game (beat the LV Raiders). Then they were gone, like Tinker-Travelers. Whew.
Lisa continued to watch the football game to completion while I slowly coaxed Smokey out of hiding and then we returned to The Change and binged watched season one to completion. Excellent series.
But my day was not yet over.
Just after 7 pm, I received a text from a dear local friend named Heidi, a voracious reader with 10 thousand books in her home, whom I promised that if she ever purchased any of my books, I would meet her anywhere to inscribe them.
Heidi texted to let me know she was finishing up her shift at a local store and had her copies of the books.
I am a man of my word.
Ten minutes later, Voila!
Thank you Heidi for your freindship and support. Enjoy the read and tell all of your friends and customers. Word of mouth is the cornerstone to the success of The Claire Saga.
Well, Monday has again reared its ugly head.
You fine, five readers get that last caffeine cuppa in you and launch into the work week. A short, Thanksgiving week. BTW, has anyone else experience a Mandela Effect timeline shift?! Wasn’t Thanksgiving always the third Thursday of November?! But I digress.
I’m going to finish cuddling Smokey and then feed Mittens (aka Mike) who should just be popping out of the Jack The Spruce heated bunker for his morning meal. Then complete my rounds.
But no matter what each and any of us get up to, let us make today a great one.
