This is not the current view of our house. Today is dark and damp; leftover weather from yesterday’s rain. But I did take it a few days ago, so it’s fairly timely
At this moment, I’m worrying about the predicted low of 31 degrees on Wednesday and Thursday. Does that mean I’ll only see one morning glory? Because a freeze would bring the end for those buds. And how do I protect the porch plants since, as happens every October, the nighttime temps will go back to the 40s next week.
It drives me crazy.
Thank you for all the anniversary wishes. We celebrated by cleaning out the gutters in anticipation of Sunday’s rain. Pretty romantic, don’t you think? We did have some sugar-free ice cream and chocolates after dinner. And Don gave me a card. He always sneaks one in there even though we both say ‘”No cards this year.”
Tomorrow, we have someone coming to look at the washer, which is leaking. This has happened before, but I have no idea if it’s fixable this time. Fingers crossed. We don’t need the expense of a new washer/dryer. It’s the kind that is tall and thin, all one piece, and it fits in a closet in our bathroom. We’ve been told repeatedly that newer versions of this kind of machine are not as well made. Big surprise, right? We could resort to going to the laundromat in a neighboring town, if need be. Anyway, we’ll wait and see what the technician says. It will probably be the same guy who has been here the last two times.
Just like our cars, we’re babying it along, because we don’t want and can’t afford a big new expense in our senior years. My mother used to say things like “This is the last sofa we’ll buy” or, “This is the last trip we’ll make” or, “This is the last car we will buy” and it used to drive me crazy because it sounded negative and fatalistic. But I get it now. At times, I find myself thinking the same way. I’m sure my mom is saying “I told you so” wherever she is at this moment.
What else? I finished another book by Robert Hurwitz in the “Orphan X” series. Now I’m reading John Banville’s newest book, The Drowned, set in 50s Ireland. A mystery. He is a poet. I’m not sure I’ve read anything more powerful and evocative than the way he puts a sentence together. This is the second book featuring Detective Inspector Strafford that I have read. He writes other fiction as well, but I’m always drawn to a moody mystery. After I finish this, the newest Jane Casey awaits – another Irish writer of mysteries. Then back to Hurwitz. I have to read the “10 day only” new library books first. I have a plan. I always have a plan.
Stay safe.
Happy Monday.
