Camille has chastised me in the past when I'm having trouble with this or that, "Woman, you have to learn to ask for help." I reject the idea that I am stubborn. I'll either find way or an alternate way to do something, or decide it didn't need doing in the first place. Cam knew about my trials with the truck hood. "Ask your neighbor, Joe, for help!" It was rainy and cold all day. How was I going to pull him out of his hopefully warm house for that? I tried again and again to open the danged thing without success. Finally, in the late afternoon I gave up and called. "Joe, I have a silly favor to ask," and voicemail hung up on me. Oh well, I tried. Imagine my shock when not five minutes later Joe drove up. "You never ask for help, so I figured you needed me." It didn't take him two minutes to release the stuck mechanism on the latch. What a good neighbor, what a nice man. Needless to say, I didn't get to the store yesterday.
Joe didn't blink an eye when I came to the door in a sweatshirt, a hoodie, a puffy jacket, and that great knitted pig hat with eyes, ears and flaps. He must have wondered, but I didn't explain. Better to be thought eccentric than ask another favor. I had run out of porch firewood a couple of days ago. The wind had blown the tarps off the woodpile and the wood was wet, so it was futile to bring more to the house. Wet wood doesn't burn and Stove has sat idle. Thus my odd indoor attire.
For two days, it has hailed whenever I've taken Michael for a walk. It's hard not to take it personal. Michael does his business and we hightail it back to the house, liberally sprinkled with ice the size of rock salt.
To-Do (make that Must-Do) list for today: Go to the store! Bring more wood to the porch and hope to heck it dries out! Light a fire!
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