March weather, March head cold, March mud. I think that would highlight the main elements of this day.
I went to bed sniffing, I woke up with a nasal waterfall. I called off childcare for the day because the idea of riding back and forth in the car felt like an effort, the kind you'd expand on scaling a steep mountain.
The dogs did not wake me -- I woke them, honking away into a tissue. Fine, I wasn't going to go back to sleep anyway.
And of course, the weather has to be dull and drizzly. And of course the pups took a while. Twice I had to dislodge bones from the mouths of babes because either an animal had died yesterday and left behind skeletal remains, or a workman had been eating something that had thick shreds of bones, tossed onto the grass, or someone had left them on the curb deliberately to choke my dogs. Given their barking tendencies, I'm imagining the worst.
I really looked forward to my morning coffee. Warm liquid heaven!
And then I did drive the pooches to doggie daycare, feeling so very thankful for the daycare services and for the fact that my cold is at its worst (I hope) on days that they're open. Weekend colds on a wet day would be my idea of hell right now. (Yes, I did imagine that I would be sick and that the dogs would still need their exercise, and yes I realized that this would be unpleasant, but of course every great idea has its unpleasant side.)
I just wanted to come home then, but I remembered to stop at Steffi's House to take some photos of grass markings (where cables were buried). In case I ever want to dig, I want to know where danger lurks. The fence guys had had it properly marked, I am simply riding in on their coattails.
To properly photograph all the markings, I allowed myself to step onto the adjacent construction site. That was one muddy place! My shoes were caked with wet clay. I scraped some of it off with my bare hand, then finished the job in the kitchen sink. So now I have wet shoes for the rest of the day. Who cares, I do not want to go outside anyway!
The owner of Sally's House came over to replace a filter in the fridge. I was happy to be here -- I could press him for information that the management company refuses to provide. I asked if he intends to sell it or rent it after I moved out. He tells me it will be up for rent. I hint that he could have it a tad earlier. He asks if maybe I could stay on. I'm looking for renters like you. Clearly he has not met my wild dogs.
I do fit in one productive task: I frame and put up a poster I had purchased in St Paul de Vance. There are many, many walls in this house that could use art, but the kids play area (aka Sadey's prison) was especially bare. And I do have a sentimental feeling about my January trip to France. The poster is an acknowledgement that it was a good trip. Worth remembering.
I stay home until it's time to pick up the dogs. And from there -- home again, of course. Little ones (I speak with affection rather than accuracy), don't ask me for long walks tonight, okay?
They say dogs can intuit what you need. I'll let you know tomorrow how good they were at this!
with so much love...
