Back to almost normal this morning. The dog and I scared up five deer as we walked to get the newspaper. She was mostly oblivious, running her squirrel route -- running her traps as we call it. She's become obsessed with squirrels. Before we moved here, she fancied herself a cowdog, in love with circling and herding the cows at the SO's land. Now, she doesn't even notice when the neighbor's cattle have grazed over to our fence. She only has eyes for squirrels, and when she spots one, leaps like a gazelle with her head in the hair, whining and howling. We joke that she's going to have a heart attack one of these days, because she comes back from one of these episodes panting and slobbering, thirsty, and will collapse in her corner behind the rocking chair to take an extra-long nap.
The squirrels, of course, act as though she's a minor nuisance. Sometimes they stop their aerial acrobatics long enough to flap their tail and bark at her. Mostly, they seem to think she's comic relief, as they fly among the treetops, surefootedly. They seem to have a route they run. Think I've mentioned before that we live in an oak motte, so there's no shortage of trees for the squirrels. They can go from the front gate to the back pen, tree to tree, without ever having to descend to the ground. Almost daily we spot a new bag-shaped squirrel's nest in some tree here. However, all of this said, they are doing a pretty crummy job of vacuuming up all the acorns we have this year. It's like walking on ball-bearings to go across the yard to the car.
The flowerbeds are decimated. The amaryllis we brought over from the SO's place the summer we moved in, are flattened, most of the foliage has been broken off at the ground. The agapanthus I planted in June are also broken at the ground. So are half of the daylilies in the back bed, and the society garlic has been smushed by an air compressor. This is especially irksome to me because there is a sidewalk six inches from the society garlic, which would have made a much more sensible platform for the compressor than my flowerbed. We have also picked up two nails in the soles of our shoes, and one in the back tire on my car. The roofing contractor assured me that there would be no rogue nails left on the ground, and that the flowerbeds would be protected. So much for promises.
And yes, I'm angry about it. We nursed this place through the worst drought on record this summer, with 61 days of over 100 degrees, and in two days the roofers managed to destroy all we worked so hard to keep alive. Nothing is sacred. I picked up cigarette butts and empty Coke cans they left strewn around. If the roof hadn't been leaking so much, I would've rather done without replacing it, but we were starting to have a nest of Tupperware on the floor every time it rained to catch the drips. However, this has been a good reminder to me of what a pain it is to have workmen around. I have been sort of hankering to replace the carpet in the bedroom and the tile floors in the two downstairs bathrooms. Now, I'm convinced I can live with it as it is for a while yet. The guest room on the other side of the garage, however, needs some attention. This is the room where company usually stays, and I want to repaint the bathroom out there. It's not a big bathroom, and I think I can do it without help even from the SO. Gosh, he hates to paint. Didn't realize it until we painted the sunroom last year. Thought we would divorce over it, and we're not even married.
He left after breakfast this morning to go do some of his land chores and to visit his sick, possibly dying, boyhood friend. With the alone time I've decided to do what I said I was going to do at least a week ago. I'm going to put the children's story on the computer so I can get to work on it.
Onward ....
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