"If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium" (1969 movie, Suzanne Pleshette and Ian McShane). That was then, this is now. It's Tuesday so this must be Trash Day. In what will probably be a futile attempt to stay ahead of the game, Bessie Anne and I took the barrel down to the big road yesterday. Trash Guy roared up Robert's driveway (wineries get VIP treatment) just now and here I sit, still in my robe and smiling in the dark.
This is an old (2012) photo of Cindy, but that little black goat with her pink tongue stuck out is how she looks every night. I'd take a current picture, but without cooperation from phone and computer, I couldn't post it. Cindy gets so excited at bedtime, i.e., snack time. She is always the first one into the barn and runs to her stall to see if her treat is there. It's not. I've not had time to get the bowls ready because she's followed right on my heels. She spins in circles, sometimes nibbling at my arm over the half-door to the feed bin, that pink tongue at the ready. She cracks me up. In the photo, she's obviously pregnant; she's long past the age for breeding now.
Also an early riser, Linda is in the laundry room, ironing. (I didn't think people still did that.) I just walked down the dim hallway, cats racing around like pinballs. Ralph was fascinated by the sight and sound of ironing (he'd sure never seen
me do it), and Luna had gotten herself stuck in the bathroom because Celeste wouldn't let her cross the bridge without paying the toll ("Three Billy Goats Gruff," Norwegian fairy tale). Since the household is up and moving, I don't want to be odd man out so I'd best get going. After all, think of all that time I saved this Tuesday morning.
1 comment:
Congrats on outsmarting the early-morning trash run. We are on a Belgium schedule too, but it's picked up at the end of the short driveway and requires no truck!
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