Totally Messed Up: The Sequel

I've got to do some kind of reality check!  As Yogi Berra said, "It's deja vu all over again!"  Last week I mixed up Sunday for Monday and made a futile trip into town.  Yesterday I knew it was Sunday (NASCAR...yes!), but I almost waited too long to get to the feed store.  I'm used to telling time by the sun, not the clock.  Last week I missed trash day because I slept until almost 6, and I determined not to do that again.  Today I was so proud of myself...got up extra early and loaded up the truck in the dark.  Got down to the big road and was amazed that I was the first one to get my barrel out...that never happens.  Well, of course I was first.  It's Monday and trash day is Tuesday.  Duh. 

It's going to be hard to say goodbye to Uma and #21 today...they're so darned cute.  They are the same size as little stuffed toys, and unbelievably soft.  I could fit both of them into a grocery bag.  Their face markings give them little smiley faces with bright button eyes.  Just like human babies, they are born with blue eyes.  At two days old, yesterday they were giving little baby hops and leaps, and Uma curls up in Sheila's food bowl for her naps.  I've always kept the kids until they were weaned at two months, and I'll miss holding these little ones for bottle feeding and cuddling.  Sheila and I will go through the pangs of loss together.

There's no sense wondering what tomorrow will bring...I'll just wonder what day it is.

Totally Messed Up

It seems I haven't got complaining about the time change completely out of my system.  Got up at five-thirty yesterday, which is a reasonable hour, except my body knew it was only four-thirty...too early by anyone's standards.  Going by the clock, I surprised the goats an hour early and their internal time pieces said they weren't ready for breakfast yet.  To make matters worse, there was no race yesterday, and without NASCAR to punctuate the week, I don't know what day it is.  Needing some supplies, I drove into town, only to discover the store I needed was closed.  Closed?  Of course it was closed...it was Sunday.  Drat!  A forty mile trip for nothing.  And, still needing those supplies, I'll have to do it again today...and I just love going to town.  There...now I feel better.

The mourning doves have migrated in, and their sad calls are heard morning and evening.  There is another dove that will come later.  Mourning doves are small birds, but the other ones are really big, as big as pigeons, and when they're startled, their wings clatter like machine guns.  The other day I heard a ruckus and saw a grey squirrel being beseiged by three red-headed woodpeckers.  It had evidently gotten too close to either a nest or a stash of acorns, and the woodies were dive-bombing and squawking, driving the squirrel out to the very end of a small, bouncing branch, and finally out of the tree.  Sheila is waddling around in the last stages of her pregnancy, with an expression that says she'd really like to be done with it...and now would be good.  The not-so-reliable weathermen are predicting a week of sixty- and seventy-degree days, so I guess I don't have so much to complain about after all.