So we rolled in around midnight-thirty last night, relatively safe and sound. It was 107 degrees here yesterday (apparently some sort of record) and today is shaping up more or less the same, looks like.
This is what happens when you’re away from your house for three weeks:
- Your dining room table disappears beneath a sea of mail. Two-thirds of which you will eventually discard unread.
- A huge patch of the lawn dies (faulty sprinkler valve or something) and weeds throttle your Herbaceous Border.
- Your kitties (well, two of them) are SO HAPPY to see you that they keep you up all night meowing in sheer joy at your reunion. Your response to this phenomenon will rapidly deteriorate from "Awwww, her little meower’s in overdrive" to "@$%&!!! cat, get off the bed!" *well-placed boot to the ribs* (Note: the only really good cat will remain scarce for two or three more days.)
- Laundry. Miles and miles and piles and piles of laundry.
- Ten (count ’em, a paltry ten) voice mail messages. Three are wrong numbers. Three, no, four are work-related. One is about how you inadvertently missed your kitties’ vaccination appointment, though at this point you are rather more likely to request that your kitties be inoculated with something dreadful (chronic laryngitis, perhaps?) than protected against dreaded feline diseases.
- Did I mention laundry?
- The laundry room develops a certain ineffable stinky smell. You will not be enthusiastic about the prospect of discovering what it is.
- Feeling torn between immediately wanting to run out and embrace all your much-missed loved ones and wanting to collapse and just take a nap.
Tomorrow: ruminations on returning to your hometown and never running into any of the people you’d like to run into.
Do y’all like the new color scheme? Brought to you by the experts at Six Apart. Thanks, guys/girls!