Go Ahead and Laugh

Sun and rain have the weeds and grasses shooting up, particularly behind the feed barn and around the chicken pens.  Housebound for days, it seemed a good idea to get outside and get the weed-eater going in the afternoon.  In order to get to the weed-eater, I had to move the lawn tractor.  As long as I had the tractor going, I might as well mow the west field.  That done, I approached the weed-eater.  It's a two-wheeled piece of equipment that has been temperamental in the past.  Yesterday was no exception.  When it was overhauled last year, the nice man shortened the pull rope to a length I could handle.  I pulled.  Nothing.  I pumped the little red choke button.  Nothing.  I pulled.  And pulled and pulled and pulled.  Nothing.  Incidentally, I also checked the spark plug, which was clean and had good contact.  I put the weed-eater away and blocked it in with the tractor and turned my back on it.  I called Dave.  "Dave, I want to get the weed-eater started.  I've seen you guys use some squirty stuff and I have some, but I don't know where to squirt it.  I know it doesn't go in the whirlygig place."  When he quit laughing at my lack of technical terminology, Dave patiently explained about removing the air filter, finding the intake hole and spraying Engine Start (who knew?) at the carburetor and then pulling the rope.  I may try again today.  Or not.

Ralph loves the potty, and not just for paddling.  He will wake from a sound sleep or come running from another room if I go in to use the facilities.  He immediately leaps up on my lap.  It's not that I don't enjoy his company; I do.  However, I leave it to the imagination when I say it is difficult to finish the paperwork with an immoveable cat on my lap.  Celeste usually joins us, but is content to wind around my feet and be petted.  Long gone are the days of a quick in-and-out of the bathroom.  By the way, stuffing squirrel burrows with clumping cat litter turns out to be a great plan.  The used litter turns almost to concrete.  If I run out of burrows (not likely), I may start to work on the ruts and potholes in the road.