Rare Days

"And what is so rare as a day in June?  Then, if ever, come perfect days."  (James Russell Lowell, 1848)

I can't speak to those hot ones, but the last few days have lived up to Mr. Lowell's expectations, weatherwise.  The deltas blew in, blustery at first, then calming to a cool, gentle breeze.  Our walks have been so pleasant and the door is left open day and night.  The whole-house fan hasn't been called to duty, and most days haven't even required the ceiling fan.  Knowing this time won't last makes me appreciate it even more.

Another thing that won't last is this messed-up situation with the required meds.  The plan was to go get an abbreviated prescription after getting the blood draw, without which Doctor would not see me and decide how to proceed.  All this would not be necessary had the lab not screwed up.  Ah well.  Called the pharmacy before leaving the house.  They had not received an order.  Called the Dr.'s office.  "I'll call Dr. and remind him.  The pharmacy will call you."  Waited all day.  I don't know who called whom, but none were to me.  Late afternoon.  "Did you go get the lab work done?"  "No, I've been waiting for the pharmacy to call."  "Oh."  City dwellers don't understand it's about a three-hour round trip to town.  We'll try again today.

Our walks have been leisurely.  Like a weathervane, Michael sits with his nose to the wind when we're outside.  It's as if he's reading the breeze like a newspaper.  I wish he could tell me what it says.

Stay safe.  Be well.