Last night I watched the musical Kinky Boots on the PBS Great Performances series, and what fun it was. And what fabulous performers—oh my goodness!
This morning it’s cloudy and cool. Waiting for the 10:00 am big community dog walk, I went on a cleaning binge. I was after cobwebs. Around all the door and window jams, where the flat trim boards are laid vertically over logs, there are scores of little hiding spaces that are for Spiders. And where walls intersect, there are more dark recessed spaces where webs thrive.
Then, once there was enough light, I went carefully over every part of my porch where the cats go to be outside. It’s enclosed with screening, yet on each of the past two days my cats have somehow managed to kill a Hummingbird. I found a couple of tiny spaces the birds might have entered, and filled them. I really hope that ends the killing.
Next I cleaned everywhere where the floors meet the walls. I used a torch to illuminate the seams so that I got everywhere totally clean. Then it was onto all the wood furniture: I cleaned, lightly oiled and waxed all my wood furniture. And when I did my bookshelves, I bundled up all the books I’m done with; they will go to the local recycling charity shop.
The dog walk was wonderful because it started snowing as we departed. It fell almost the whole ninety minutes of our walk, but it had turned to rain and then stopped altogether by the time I got home.
I did all this work today because my Sciatic nerve seems to be taking the day off and both shoulders felt less painful after I got out of bed. But after four hours of working—I started at 5:00 am—one shoulder is throbbing.
Twelve joints are aching
Eleven digits breaking
Ten beats per second
Nine toes are fecund
Eight tries to get up
Seven nails crack up
Six daily pissings
Five minute farts
Four missing teeth
Two kidney stones
And no cartilage inside my knee!
Tonight, at 6:00, Marina and Costin are calling me on Facetime. Costin was the young fellow who came to my place every two weeks to help me maintain the big aquarium I had when I lived in Vancouver. And I absolutely adore the man—and his wife, Marina. Like Adrienne who lives here, Costin and Marina are probably in their late thirties and I get a bit of a high when I see and feel their affection.
There’s something particularly lovely about a comfortable cross-generational friendship. For one thing, when they call after a while of not talking or emailing, I don’t worry something is wrong. Instead, I wonder if they’re calling to tell me they’re pregnant.
|The mat is on a hockey rink; the women are on their butts!|