It might be a case of "the squeaky wheel gets the grease," but just yesterday I was complaining about too many rainy days in succession and wouldn't you know the sun came out later in the morning? Admittedly, it was weak and without much warmth, but there it was, regardless. One good thing about the local DCG soil (decomposed granite), it drains quickly, and by afternoon the mud had mostly solidified again.
For the first time in days, the house eventually got warm. I'd been worried about the catalytic converter in the wood stove (a big-ticket item), but I think I've found the current problem. It's very possible that Helper Dude loaded the porch rack with green (unseasoned) wood. He should have known better, because he's the one who cut and split oak from that huge branch that fell late last year. Hey, he's only 15, so he gets a pass. I figured it out only when I got down to previously stacked wood (thanks, Dave and Clay) and the stove got hot immediately.
I use the cellphone quite a bit for texting, but make and receive very few actual calls. When I do get a call, I'm almost guaranteed to hang up instead of answering. What can I say? The little red button on the left has a phone on it and I push that instead of the green one on the right. I did it again yesterday when Milk Guy called to change his pick-up day next week. Sorry, it's not personal.
I received a letter from the Postmaster General's office; a form to report stolen mail. One of the questions was, "Describe material stolen." I've a bit of a problem with that because while I can describe what was found, I have no way of knowing what else might have been stolen and kept. Another question was, "Was a police report made?" Well, no. I called the Sheriff's Office immediately and was told an officer would contact me as soon as one was available. That was last Sunday and I've seen neither hide nor hair of any deputy to date. I'm getting the same feeling as when I call PG&E on the landline (the only working phone when there is no electricity) to report a power outage and the recorded voice tells me I can make the report online. Hmmm, if I had power, I wouldn't be calling.
Walking through the living room is like traveling through an obstacle course. Ralph and Celeste have found a new trove of treasure. They've figured out how to open the louvered doors to the guest room closet where I stash Taylor's favorite stuffed toys. I never know what new surprise is in store when I go out in the morning nor what I'll have to step over or kick out of my way.
Happy birthday to my son Larry!