There's not a cloud in the sky today. Hope springs eternal. An out-of-town, first-time guest is arriving on Monday; a roommate from high school whom I have not seen for fifty-four years. I had thought to get the place spiffed up for her first impression, but the yards are so waterlogged, I don't think I'll be able to mow before she gets here even if it stays dry in the sky. I guess we'll just have to be au natural, ratty-tatty yards, soggy paths, soaked goats and all.
I am reminded of a time years ago in West Sacramento when an appraiser was coming. I'd said at work that I wanted to leave on time so I could get the house picked up. A coworker laughed and said, "Get real. You have a pig living in the living room!" (Louie, my pot-belly, was still a piglet at the time. He was box-trained, I should add.) Now I have sixteen chicks in the laundry room. And I'm worried about the yards?