The land that time forgot

It’s astonishing how blurred time can become when you drift from hour to hour with no real purpose or place to go.
Oh sure, I have my spurts of activity. One day I snuck up on myself and was cleaning like a woman possessed before I knew what hit me. Wiping the front door led to washing the hall floor, which let to wiping down the kitchen counters again, which led to climbing a ladder to clean the glass bottles and fish above the cupboards (a job sorely overdue based on their general disgusting, dusty stickiness).

Oh, and let’s not forget finally getting around to pouring baking soda and vinegar down all the drains.

        

  Our latest big outing was bringing Mickey D burgers and fries to a picnic table (this time covered in a $1 disposable tablecloth) in a park.

 
Music came by way of a set of chimes in a nearby tree and a shiny manatee played nearby. Mamie thought it was a brilliant idea since it involved many magical elements: a car ride, French fries, and digging. It wasn’t an unusually hot day, but Mamie picked a spot under our table and dug to China, to create a cool spot of her own, I guess.

 

It would have been a whole lot more endearing if we hadn’t just paid $45 at the groomer’s the day before.

          Otherwise, we’re behaving, and having conversations called across the parking lot and down the sidewalks. On my morning walks I’m getting used to ongoing people plunging over to the grass to avoid passing too closely to me. Although the first time it made me feel a bit like one of the Rolling Stones. I love them as much as anyone else, but admit it – in spite of their fame, any one of them has always looked like the sort of person you’d have crossed the street to avoid.