the hours of Sunday

Funny how the day shrugs off the hours -- flips them away, one by one, pfft! Gone! No day better illustrates this than a Sunday. The pileup of household chores is significant and since it is Sunday, you work through them systematically and slowly. And before you know it, it's evening.

It's easy to figure out exactly where the time goes: just keep a tally. I did today. And I bragged (or complained, depending on which tone of voice you think I used) about the results to Ed.

It took me one hour and ten minutes to take care of all the animals!
Seriously? Why so long?
Well, this week will have lots of temperamental weather. So I was more meticulous with everything.
Still, one hour?
One hour and ten minutes! Dont forget about the ten minutes!
What did you do?
First, the cats. That was the easy part. But they're so cute and so much less afraid of me! So I stood there and talked to them as they ate their breakfast...






... and watched, as they retreated to one of their favorite spots in the back of the garage.






The ground is super icy, so I tried to chip away a little of the ice bridge that has formed by the front door.
Successfully?
No.

Then, onto the barn.

The cheepers water bowl was completely frozen. Maybe it's not heating properly? Anyway, I had to take that inside and get the dirty ice out and start afresh. That took a while. I put in a full bowl of water and, oh, were they thirsty! I stood there forever watching them drink!
Seems you did a lot of standing and watching...
Not so! Then I took the (captured) mouse to the park. (We finally learned that if you load the trap up with lots of pungent cheeses and nut spreads, they will go inside. We've had a successful catch almost every day this last week.)

(drive to park: February without the sunshine can look pretty severe)






After that, of course, I had the completely disgusting job of cleaning the trap. After which I had to scrub any surface within a mile of where I cleaned the trap.

Ed's mildly impressed.
Why don't you rest a bit?

I cannot. I must proceed with house cleaning.

A break for a pink breakfast.






A check on the cats. Still cute! (How can you resist admiring the mama and her awesome twosome??)






Are we having snow flurries? Yes we are. Arrival of winter storm (the real stuff!) expected tomorrow eve.





An online French maintenance lesson.

Yoga. I went with the tougher one. It was too tough, but I plowed through it!

It is now 4 p.m. Nearly evening.

Later:

It is, of course, the evening with the young family at the farmhouse and so I fuss with supper. Because they're worth it.
 






Snowdrop had seen a movie this weekend ("Moana"). It was quite a leap for her: fire and fury are not exactly within the little one's comfort zone. But now, having barrelled through it, she feels the thrill of having that popular movie under her belt. She can talk of nothing else tonight!






Dinner. Beautiful meal always, but especially when you can gather a bit of family around you.






Afterwards, we all slow down. Finish up, put away, sit back. The hours of a Sunday evening are as sleepy as a child after a bedtime story.  No need to tally the hours anymore. Pop some corn, watch a movie, read a book. And of course, write. With eyes only half open.