For my sins, this morning I decided to attempt cleaning those windows which are accessible to me.
And remembered why it is that they so rarely get cleaned.
It’s not that I hate the job.
It’s that I am horribly incompetent.
Pretty soon, all the splatters of mud and bird do were blended into a nice even blur.
No, not even. It was just all a smeary mess.
Frustrated, I muttered about it and Grant piped up helpfully “newspaper is what you need!”
Yes, and long arms, like yours, my 6ft3 friend!
Only I didn’t say it. Some things he just won’t do.
Fair enough. we don’t have a rule book.
Irritability It’s just one of those little “side effects” of my new medication. Check that one off!
Alright, so I’m always just a little bit. Irritable.
In fact, I am patience personified. Until I’m not. Then it’s like a bad rocket launch at Cape Canaveral.
11 cats and a bloke make messes. When it gets beyond my tolerance, out comes the Dyson. Which is another of those jobs I am no good at.
Just as I was winding the cord back up one day, my friend popped up and said “I know it needed doing, but it hurts your back. Why didn’t you ask me to do it?”
To which I replied “if I have to ask, I’d rather do it myself!” (Words out of my mother’s book!)
And thought “are you deaf?”
Even the Dyson has developed a whine. When you turn her off she lets out a great spiraling sigh that echoes how I usually feel when I’ve had to use her.
Moaning Minnie. The Dyson, not me, not really.
I am basically the kind of person who should live alone, with a couple of cats. Maybe four.
But one has to modify one’s life style according to one’s abilities and when those begin to diminish, it’s time for adjustments.
At my age and state of disintegration, I can see myself persuaded into assisted living which is a very good thing, for a lot of people.
But not for me. I think it would remind me too much of boarding school. And I need my cats. Not people.
It’s no good being a loner and wanting to live in the country by yourself if you can’t depend on being able to cope with harsh weather and a bit of heavy lifting.
Grant and I are no worse than the average married couple and I have to give him points for all he’s had to put up with these past many months, with all my ups and downs.
I’m not sure I’d want to live with me.
Early evening light on the hill across the valley and above, the light just catching the tops of trees.
Toby says”why is there a roll of paper towel on the walkway?”
Well that’s because when I was cleaning windows, our pal Grant let things get out of control in the kitchen and it got soaked. Now it’s drying in the sun.
Apparently that seemed a good place to put it.
Meanwhile, I seem to have totally overlooked the official start of Spring which wasn’t terribly noticeable, I have to say.
However, this morning brought two new arrivals from the south:
a Mr and Mrs Cowbird took breakfast at the feeder.
Then just before lunch, Grant called out that the groundhog was out. He scurried so fast past my window I couldn’t get his picture. We’ve been dropping carrots at his entrance for a week or so, since Grant saw him pop his head up one day.
On that occasion, we were still surrounded by ice and there was a bitterly chill wind, so Mr Groundhog promptly withdrew and went back to bed.
Hopefully, I’ll have some updated pictures soon.