I’m definitely not a ‘fly by the seat of my pants’ gal’ (to quote a line from one of my favourite films), spontaneity is just not me. I like order in my life, straight lines, clean surfaces and all that. Knowing when and where things are happening at all times is my kind of happy. I may have mentioned more than a couple of times in this blog my tendency towards being a bit of a control freak so when people don’t show up or I have to change my daily routine due to others, it’s not unusual for me to feel totally out of balance or worse still, have a hissy fit. Losing Tony so suddenly may well be a contributing factor but I’m pretty sure I was born with a calendar in one hand and a bottle of disinfectant in the other. With all this in mind, you can imagine my state of mind this week when Lionel didn’t show up as promised and we started the new running schedule.
I liked running or Thursdays and Saturdays mainly because the latter marked the end of the week for me as Sunday is a no workout day, running on the new days just feels unsettling. I liked the routine of changing the bed linen after a good ramble to start the weekend (battling duvet cover aside), 20 minutes of high intensity bouncing around with an online trainer is just not the same. Arry is, of course, thrilled about not having to wear a hi-vis jacket through the hills although I do keep that cowbell on his collar just in case there’s an errant hunter who doesn’t check his diary.
The blessed Roy (all things pool tech) turned up with a sump pump for the pool this week. The previous week’s deluge had left a couple of inches of murky water which needed to be suctioned out so that we could dry it. Sounds daft but we can’t fill the pool until the bottom is dry because it will go mouldy under the liner. Lionel also needed to get the pool house roof on so that the electrics would be safe and put the concrete wall under the steps which is why I had a complete tantrum when he failed to show up as scheduled. Poor thing got an earful from both myself and Moth who pointed out, pun intended, that he (Lionel) might be suffering from an ear infection but his sister being stressed was far more severe. The roof is just about finished and I am back-filling the space under the stairs. I ought to send a bunch of flowers to his wife – she hasn’t seen him all weekend. My darling Denis should be back next week, life runs so much smoother when he’s in control.
Poor Arry had to go to the vets this week as his ears were playing up again, his fault for being born with attaching radars. Actually I blame Alice as she constantly has her tongue down one of them, it’s the nurse in her. The vet was one of the newer ones in the practice, I have met her before as she has been instrumental in getting the pups jabbed up but she had never met our Arry. German Shepherds do, unfortunately and without reason, have a rep for being difficult so I wasn’t surprised when she asked if he was friendly. The ensuing facial wash and counter-wiping tail wag was assurance enough even he wasn’t overly keen on staying still whilst she swabbed his oreilles. You gotta love the goof.
Callum turned 23 in Tuesday and since we had all clubbed together to buy him a carpentry thingamajig machine, I decided to make him a themed cake. It didn’t exactly turn out as I had envisioned, what was supposed to be a model of a sander looked more like the blob from Ghostbusters. I may have a creative mind but it doesn’t seem to connect with the rest of my body. As Callum says, I may embarrass him most of the time but I do make him laugh. I wish his Dad could see him now, a true craftsmen and a flippin’ good looking one too. Admittedly he spends most of his time covered in dust and plaster but I think he’s happy here. So is Sherman…..
“Routine is a ground to stand on, a wall to retreat to; we cannot draw on our boots without bracing ourselves against it.” (Henry David Thoreau)
Widow plus woofs 