Thanksgiving?
Oops. Not only did I forget it was Thanksgiving yesterday, I forgot to wish husbo T a happy one. Last year we talked of having a feast this year and inviting people over, but it was bound not to happen. T's been in a superfunk of a mood for the past however-long - luckily he's getting much better really fast, thanks to starting anti-Ds - and yesterday was almost 40° here in the north-west. It was a swelter. Activating the oven would've burnt the house down, but we could at least have had cold turkey + brie + cranberry rolls for dinner. Delicious! Our bad.
I have to write a note to the courier company to expect no one to answer the front door, but to come round the side gate to the right, up the back steps and knock on the door in the right-hand corner. That's the granny flat door and this is where I am. The only part of the house that has any A/C, and I've got it cranked. I turned it down 1-2° though so we wouldn't all catch summer colds, and by 'all' I mean me, Kenji, Elsie and wobbly old Gordon. I suffered the heat the past few days perched in front of an oscillating fan and under a ceiling fan and I imbibed liquids all day and I still ended up with dehydration and a nasty headache.
But back to Gordon: Gordon prevails! Since Mum left the country for the UK and France (and later, USA) he's been staying with us and he's been going from strength to strength. His fur is shiny and healthy-looking, his wits are all around him, he eats like a horse and craves special treats. He ambles through the garden faster than ever before, pressing to get from point A to point B, and he lounges in the shade of a Coolibah tree... Well, we don't have a Coolibah tree - or a billabong - so he sits in the shade of the box hedges up the side instead, or the ferns in the back, or beneath the deck, or screened behind tall vegies in the vegie patches, deep in the heart of the shed, or under the house through a crevice only a skinny mini like Gordon could ever penetrate.
And speak of the devil - he's just thumped down from the bed where he was napping and he's wandered into the main room here, settled on a doona on the floor. I'm lying on same; no couches in here anymore. (Too crappy and depressing.) I keep meaning to have a nap but there is so much else I have to do...
... Like stick this sign to front door advising of presence way in the back. Todd'll want his newly repaired computer this weekend, that's fer dang surrre, and I'll want him to have it so I don't have to share mine because he's been for three or four days without it, and he's lately been addicted (I fear). Attentive to nothing he once loved. It's part of returning to normality, I think, when everything else was grey. I do it too when I'm getting better, getting *up*.
I have to write a note to the courier company to expect no one to answer the front door, but to come round the side gate to the right, up the back steps and knock on the door in the right-hand corner. That's the granny flat door and this is where I am. The only part of the house that has any A/C, and I've got it cranked. I turned it down 1-2° though so we wouldn't all catch summer colds, and by 'all' I mean me, Kenji, Elsie and wobbly old Gordon. I suffered the heat the past few days perched in front of an oscillating fan and under a ceiling fan and I imbibed liquids all day and I still ended up with dehydration and a nasty headache.
But back to Gordon: Gordon prevails! Since Mum left the country for the UK and France (and later, USA) he's been staying with us and he's been going from strength to strength. His fur is shiny and healthy-looking, his wits are all around him, he eats like a horse and craves special treats. He ambles through the garden faster than ever before, pressing to get from point A to point B, and he lounges in the shade of a Coolibah tree... Well, we don't have a Coolibah tree - or a billabong - so he sits in the shade of the box hedges up the side instead, or the ferns in the back, or beneath the deck, or screened behind tall vegies in the vegie patches, deep in the heart of the shed, or under the house through a crevice only a skinny mini like Gordon could ever penetrate.
And speak of the devil - he's just thumped down from the bed where he was napping and he's wandered into the main room here, settled on a doona on the floor. I'm lying on same; no couches in here anymore. (Too crappy and depressing.) I keep meaning to have a nap but there is so much else I have to do...
... Like stick this sign to front door advising of presence way in the back. Todd'll want his newly repaired computer this weekend, that's fer dang surrre, and I'll want him to have it so I don't have to share mine because he's been for three or four days without it, and he's lately been addicted (I fear). Attentive to nothing he once loved. It's part of returning to normality, I think, when everything else was grey. I do it too when I'm getting better, getting *up*.