False Alarm

All predictions were that yesterday was going to be Round Two of the changeable, sometimes violent weather of the day before.  One of those alerts was even sent out over the television, warning of another possible thunder storm.  Either Nature was worn out or she was laughing up her sleeve because it was, as Michaleen Oge Flynn would say, "A fine soft day." (Barry Fitzgerald, "The Quiet Man," 1952, John Wayne, Maureen O'Hara).  It was, however, a good ten degrees colder and a drizzling mist fell until the real rain came in the afternoon.  I finally weakened late in the day and lit a fire.

It was a good day to stay inside and pay bills (now there's an oxymoron) and clear up a lot of acccumulated paperwork.  Every so once in awhile Celeste will take over Bessie's dog bed in the living room.  Bess alternates between that bed and "her" loveseat for her naps.  I always feel sorry for Bess Anne when the cat appropriates her bed.  Bessie is so polite that she won't disturb Celeste, but she paces hopefully back and forth until she finally gives up, sighs, and goes over to climb up on the couch.  Once upon a time she would just jump up, but now age and arthritis means a painful struggle to pull herself up.  When Robert Browning wrote, "Grow old along with me.  The best is yet to be," he obviously was still young.  Bette Davis knew what she was talking about when she said, "Growing old ain't for sissies."

After the false alarm yesterday, it will be interesting to see what Nature has in store today.  I've told Stove to be prepared, just in case.