Good morning readers.
Thanks for coming by for a read this morning. Temps dropped unseasonably a couple of days ago and had enough intermittent rainfall to get the neighbor out burning all the trees he’d knocked down and piled up since the last one.
I’d been fooling around with one of the longtime experiments of the Burt Lancaster/Kate Hepburn in the Rainmaker movie, so naturally I accepted that I’d made it all happened without having to argue with logic, the Universe, or modern science about the matter.
But the overwhelmingly satisfying result of it all was the cats moving indoors. They’re not big on rain, not big on gloobal warming. Naturally a twist to gloobal cooling was to their liking. Tabby slept purring occasionally with her nose in my armpit last night, which is a major step in the right direction, both in matters of laundryism, and matters of Tabby coming back into the tribe.
If the mud’s not too bad I’ll be tripping to town for groceries today and might actually squeeze in another laundry trip. Heck, if it works and I load the tank with water before I come back I might have three cats arguing for the armpit position. Have to grow another arm for the duration of the gloobal cooling crisis.