Comedy of Errors

I put in a load of clothes to wash last night, but forgot to put them in the dryer before I went to bed.  This would not ordinarily be a problem except that all my socks and my bibbies were in the washer, and today is Trash Day Tuesday...and I got up late.  I think of sweatpants as strictly "in the house" clothes, but, come on, who is going to see me (or care) at six-thirty in the semi-dark?  Bess loaded up and I, in fleece-lined slippers, sweatpants, and quilted flannel shirt headed down to the big road.  At least I'd run a brush through my bed hair.  Accumulated rain in the truck bed was frozen and we had to wait for the defroster to thaw the frozen condensation on the windshield so I could see to drive.  We got to the corner just as Trash Guy drove up.  Oh goody.  Nailed.  We exchanged pleasantries and I grabbed my empty barrel and jumped back in the truck.  Back at the house, I discovered the lid had blown off somewhere along the way.  Rats.  Back into the truck.  Back down the road.  No lid.  A neighbor was at the corner, picking up his barrel, so I didn't get out, not wanting to display my fashionista attire.  No lid.  Back at the house I put Bess inside and went out to walk the road.  Did I mention it was freezing?  Met Trash Guy again as he was coming down from Fleur de Lys winery.  He said he thought he'd stuffed the lid inside the barrel.  Turned around and huffed and puffed my way back up the steep grades of Gray Rock and my driveway.  No lid.  Got Bess back in the truck and back down the road...again.  Turns out the lid had never made it back on the barrel and was waiting there at the side of the road at the corner.  My neighbor's truck had hidden it from view on the first drive by.  I'll bet I don't do that again.

After a rainy night and morning, the sun came out in the afternoon and I noticed the rays highlighting the almond tree.  Most of the blossoms had survived the downpour and the hail, and I wanted a picture.  Bessie Anne was snoozing, but Pearl accompanied me into the orchard.  Suddenly she was off like a shot, racing for the feed barn.  Before I could turn around, Faye, the old black lab, bounded after Pearl.  Faye, being Faye, stopped in her tracks at the word "cookie," and came bouncing back to me.  We went back to the house where I grabbed a couple of milk bones and the leash, and Bessie came out to keep her visitor company (and get a bone or two for herself).  Faye's people came to get her.  She's been so good for so long, they thought she'd become trustworthy.  Uh huh.  I think Faye was Jonesing for a milk bone.

One thing about rain clouds...they sure make for a beautiful sunset.