Oh the ironies... I was exposed to someone with the ‘Rona last week, so now I’m sequestered all up in here.
I’ve made a wing of the house into my 10-day abode. The dog and cat have taken over my bed, since Ken is “next door” and won’t kick them out. It’s going to be a shock when I move back in with the hubs and they can’t nest up with me.
Speaking of dogs, my sister has a litter of new puppies ... they are my Australian Shepherd Sadie’s grandchildren. I think Sadie, in her old age, could use a puppy friend. She could teach the new dog all the rules and it would do her good to have a buddy, besides me.
Trouble is, I don’t even want to ask Papa Bear about it. He might just murder me. In reality, I am actually constantly amazed, through these 38 years of marriage, how truly wonderful he is and how he just wants me to be happy. Sometimes I wonder when he’s gonna wake up and notice how difficult I am and decide to high-tail it out of here. There is a God.
Like I mentioned last week, I think we should all dwell on the idea of puppies, kittens, baby chicks, new stuff ... Muse on those daffodil bulbs that are sitting underneath the ground right now, waiting for March to appear.
I’m going to prune my monster fig tree this weekend — it’s taking over the house and yard, so it needs to be humbled a bit. Maybe that’s what is happening to us. We’ve gotten a little too big for our britches and now it’s time for some pruning. Some fertilizer. Some root-building. Then when our “spring” arrives, we’ll be ready to grow. That fertilizer though, it can get mighty stinky...