To give you an idea of how far behind I am, I'll just admit that there's still Christmas giftwrap paper on my dining table. I'd take a picture to prove it, but there's so much mail piled up I'm not sure you could pick out the giftwrap.
Beginning a few months before my 65th birthday, the level of junk mail I get increased threefold, and I cannot make myself throw it out without looking at it first. Don't know what's the psychological root cause of that ridiculous tendency, but I need to work on it.
Then, because the clutter wasn't already bad enough, I got sick and let everything go for another two weeks. Feeling bad was all the excuse I needed to flop on the sofa and watch political news instead of picking up after myself. Life, of couse, went on around me:
The Sporting Life
I've written before about how important sports are to people around here. The adults are huge fans, and for every kid who wants to be on a team, there's some kind of ball to play.
There's another group of sportsminded kids who don't play on teams. These kids are old enough to ride around in cars, and their sport of choice is rural mailbox bashing.
These three mailboxes near the end of my driveway were all knocked down last Friday. My next-door neighbor got hers up the next morning. Mine was bashed in too much, so I had to go out and shop for a new one ($27 plus tax plus the cost of stick-on letters). Thanks to help from Kim, I had a mailbox back on the post by Monday afternoon. The neighbors in front of me are still without one.
My message to these sporty young men (girls don't generally do this for fun) who cost three families time and money is this: I hope you grow up to be fine, responsible citizens someday. And then I hope that each of you gets to deal with at least one son who's a chip off the old block.
A Dog's Life
I've also written before about my muddy backyard. It's a pain in the backside at the best of times, but cleaning muddy dog feet several times a day is especially annoying to one who has the flu.
As usual, Butch has been able to go outside and come back in with the barest minimum of soil on the pads of his feet, and Kadi has come back in every single time with mud all the way up to her ankles or higher. Once, the mud was so thick and high on Kadi's legs that I threw my hands up to my cheeks Home-Alone style when I saw her.
There was way too much mud on her to clean off with a wet towel, and I think she must have realized she'd overdone it. I jabbed a finger at her and said, in a low, deadly serious tone, "You. Better. Come with me. Right now," and Kadi willingly, for the first time in many years, followed me to the bathroom and climbed into the tub.
At that moment hell froze over, so the mud hasn't been too bad since then.
Mother Nature Likes to Play, Too
We've had strong winds for the past few days, but this afternoon was sunny and warm. After work, I thought it would be nice to sit outside on the patio and breathe in some fresh air, but Mother Nature has been busy redecorating all the lawn chairs. I just stood in the doorway and appreciated her artwork instead.
This is getting way too long, so I'll stop now and give us all a rest. Besides, I want to leave a little something to write about tomorrow. I wouldn't want to wait another four years to post something on February 29th.