After a week of posts about underwire bras and disgusting foot injuries and bad jokes about geriatric sex (makes you want to go back and catch up, doesn’t it?) I decided I just couldn’t write a post about this particular holiday, which is today. See what I mean?
I think it’s time to stop bullying my muse and just sit quietly for a while. I’ve been less active this week since the treadmill incident that chewed up my instep so it’s possible that this intellectual lethargy is going hand in hand with that. We’re headed out to Wit’s End later today to try and figure out the furnace issue; it’s on the fritz, shutting off and on, so we need to spend a night and figure out what’s up. I’m glad we have the wood burning stove as back up. Anyway, there’s usually something interesting out there and maybe the fresh air will do me good. I’m not coming back until I can raise the bar on myself at least a bit-and remember that I started this blog to work on my writing skills rather than become the class clown.
Sophie and McCloud have bad cabin fever, too. It’s cold and dreary out; the chipmunks are laying low and there’s nothing green to eat out there. As a result they’re in and restless. A few times a day I see one of them stalking the other and instigating a wrestle or race around the wood floors. They’ve been duking it out over Sophie’s patch of rug in front of the office sofa where she likes to catch the heat from the vent. Sophie always gets the upper hand in these encounters despite her diminutive stature; when she tires of wrestling she just gives him her death stare. I’m sending them both over to Friday’s Ark to run off some steam. (Click to enlarge)