When I woke up before Otto’s alarm clock went off this morning, I just had a feeling it was going to be one of THOSE sorts of days. I wasn’t sure why I felt that way; I just did. Sometimes you just know.
Today’s the day Chickadee goes to the allergist. Her rash is fading a bit, since she stopped eating wheat, but she still looks a little bit like she has leprosy. Of course there’s been precious little we need to run out and DO this week, so today—the one day we need to get up and out at a reasonable time—I looked up from my computer at 10:00 and realized she still hadn’t, you know, GOTTEN OUT OF BED.
It’s hard work, being her. And I’m all for sleeping in in the summer, but c’mon now. I woke her up and tried to jolly her into getting her sleepy behind into the shower, but she was exactly as delightful as you might imagine someone who was woken up at 10 and still tired might be. So that was fun.
While she was snoozing, I was tooling around doing my thing. Working, drinking my tea, putting some food into the crockpot for dinner (mmmm… hunk o’ beef), and—of course—tending to the garden.
We’ve reached the part of gardening which is both very rewarding and actually a fair amount of work. It turns out that when it rains there are slugs. Many, many slugs. And when it doesn’t rain, there are aphids. Many, many aphids. And rain or shine, there are always, always sow bugs. And I am trying to keep the garden organic, which means a lot of bug-picking and spraying with soapy water and ancient tribal dances and scattering of things like coffee grounds and diatomaceous earth. Not particularly difficult, you understand, but sort of time consuming.
And plants grow big and start to fall over and need supporting. I am raising a bunch of INSANE TOMATOES, the kind that actually grow so tall and so big that they outgrow the tomato cages and start randomly crashing down with their limbs here and there outside of the box. I’m grateful for their vigor, but I am thinking of buying stock in twist-ties. Just sayin’.
On the other hand, every day now we can walk outside and pick ourselves a snack. I’m sure the burgundy and wax beans are delicious cooked, but so far Chickadee and I have been unable to leave enough of them to warrant even a light steam; we go out and pick them and then eat them all raw because they’re that good. And THAT is what I was hoping to get at, with this garden—the ability to step outside and snag a home-grown snack.
But this morning I went out to do my usual garden things and discovered that Monkey’s beloved cabbage is under attack. It’s being devoured by… something. Something green and slimy. So I got to do some indeterminate-yucky-bug picking, and then some soapy-water-spraying, and some reading up on what sort of horrible green worm is eating it, and tried not to even let myself imagine what sort of hellish apocalypse might play out if Monkey returns from his trip to discover that I let his cabbage die. I would have to buy him a puppy, and I do not have time for a puppy.
So I wrangled the cabbage for a good half hour or so, feeling very accomplished and hopeful, by the end of it, and then I realized that the pool needed cleaning, so I went and lifted the cover on the skimmer basket so that I could empty that and then vacuum the pool.
There were snakes in the skimmer basket. SnakeS! PLURAL!! Swirling around in the water, waiting to EAT MY FACE OFF.
I put the cover back. I came back inside. I sent Otto a message letting him know that there was a wonderful surprise for him in the skimmer basket, and he should feel free to clean the pool when he gets home this afternoon, on account of his incredible manliness and whatnot.
And then I woke up Chickadee, who insisted that it was too early to get up.
So, yeah. It’s one of those days.