I’ve written several blog posts that were just not publishable. Certainly, it’s not that my standards are too high – God knows. The litmus test is that if I can’t even force myself to proof read it, kill it. Since retirement, it seems that my life has become something like the Groundhog Day movie, or maybe like walking on a treadmill – repetitive, and nothing too exciting. Don’t get me wrong, I’d ten-times rather have a boring life than a high-stress life. It’s just that there hasn’t been much adventure lately, but it’s not that life is boring. I can’t remember the last time I was bored.
Procrastination has been a life-long problem with me. It’s very weird, because really, I’m excellent with time management. When shit has to be done, I get it done. It’s shit that doesn’t have to be done that I tend to put off. Really, it’s even more than that. It’s shit that would benefit me personally if I did it that I tend to put off. Maybe it’s a form of self-destruction. It seems incurable.
Fall meant business earlier this week. The nights have been just enough above freezing that I’d considered moving my houseplants inside. Since there are so many plants now, and a few have gotten really large, I need to buy something to set some of them on, such as a baker’s rack. Fortunately, moving my plants inside was put off and now we are having another Indian Summer up through the end of next week if the forecast stands correct. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll go buy a shelf or rack or something. Perhaps.
It’s a long story, but the tiny little teacup Yorkie that I’d seen wandering in the neighborhood belonged to a neighbor up the street. It infuriates me to think that these people would let a dog like that run loose. Not only the danger from cars, but any dog, cat, hawk, or coyote could have killed it. As it turned out, it was severely injured by something (Gracie?) and I happened to find him dying in my driveway outside of Gracie’s domain. As do nearly all the houses in our area, we have an electric underground fence that keeps our dog in the yard. Little Roscoe (I learned his name after his death) had a wooden fence around his yard that did not keep him contained, so the owner told me. OK, but after he got out the 10th time, maybe they should have just taken him out on a leash – do you think??? I rushed poor little Roscoe to the nearest vet. They told me they preferred to have owner permission before they euthanized him; I would have to pay $50 for that, or I could pay $650 up front for x-rays to start an attempt to save his life. I snapped a quick photo and asked them to give me 30 minutes to find the owner. I knocked on doors and found the owner on the second try, who told me later they had him euthanized. His neck was broken. Poor little Roscoe. I should have collected him from the road and taken him to pound when I saw him running loose. Somebody would have taken him home.
|RIP - poor little Roscoe|
Roscoe’s death was sad and upsetting, but not nearly as upsetting as the season premiere of The Walking Dead last Sunday night. That was very disturbing…and come Sunday night you’d better believe that unless something terrible interferes, I’ll be glued to the TV to see what happens next. No doubt, there will be more tragedy.
Erin came home last weekend. I took her and Emily to the greenhouse to get pumpkins and to buy some pansies. It’s a fun place!
|Erin and her pick|
|Emily picked a round one|
My flowers in pots on the back deck are having their last hoorah. They all nearly died while Erin and I visited Chicago…nobody bothered to water them and it was beastly hot and dry while we were away. Some of them died and some recovered. Those that survived are lovely now.
|Alyssum and petunias|
|Verbena and Petunias|