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I GOT UP EARLY THIS MORNING TO MAKE SURE the sun came up.



















I noticed whoever was in charge didn't slip up...there it was, right on schedule, lighting the sky on the eastern horizon.



















I haven't been contacted about taking a turn yet, but when I do I'm going to be awfully nervous
about setting the alarm clock.



















Imagine if it failed to go off...all the early-risers in the universe would notice the screw-up and shake their heads.




















Maybe the goof-up would be blamed on my country of origin, or my political persuasion. Of course, the case could be that my gender, age or degree of conscientiousness would be the talking point. I'm guessing, however, it would be the fact that I stay up entirely too late at night. Tsk, tsk, she's one of those night-owls--fritter-frattering away the wee hours--such folks should never be trusted with the job, even in the middle of winter!


So the fact is, I'd just as soon not have the responsiblity. Really, it would be a frightfully awesome task. I'm so hoping the one in charge at present will continue to carry on.


He/ She's been doing a really phenomenal job thus far, thank God! In fact, such a good job that I don't think I'll bother getting up to check tomorrow morning.



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RE-MAKING THE BED.

























TUCKING (back) IN.














Okay, so they need a little time
to recuperate. You would, too, if
you'd been (twice) yanked out of
your bed just as you were getting
really comfortable and settled in,
maybe snoring softly,
starting to dream.








--(another new posting)--
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FOR A REPORT ON THE CONDITION of the leaking water pipe and the torn-up flower bed and the person in charge of the fretting and fussing that was done yesterday, did I really tell you to "check back tomorrow"?


After frittering away a whole entire day just to nervously oversee that whole big contretemps, I don't have as much time today to blab on about how it's not such a big deal, really. The complaints died away after the plumber left late in the day and I looked down into that hole, which looked eerily as though it had been dug for some other purpose, and felt grateful that it was just a plain old hole, after all!


Today, filled in with a little gravel and the early morning sun, followed by the stuff that spent the night beside the opening just waiting to undo it, the hole has been quickly obliterated.

Yesterday I got running water restored to me, I got back my stove and oven and refrigerator and music and all that other electrical stuff. I'll get the flower garden back, too...all I've got to do is get busy and make up the bed.

Which I'll do as soon as I make up the bed and get busy.


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TODAY WE HAD: ONE SMALL LEAK for the water pipe, one giant leak (of time) for mankind--two of mankind anyway. That would be me and the yard man, who must now wear the hat 0f the fix-it guy. I'm not counting the plumber in the census of people whose time gushed away. It's his job to climb down into muddy holes and repair damages; I once heard of a plumber who said, "Lady, your _(hmm...the word rhymes with knit, but isn't nearly so refined)_ is my bread and butter!" (The plumber was not so refined, either. But then, he was working in sewage, who can blame him?)




You may question, dear reader, how it happened that my time seeped away, since I was not the one to rent the backhoe, or use the shovel, or consult with the plumber, or muck around in the mud, or do any of the backbreaking labor. So here's the thing...I was the one who had to stand around biting my fingernails and whining about the lack of running water. For a while I even had to bemoan the fact that the electricity was turned off. I mean, really! My job was a breeze at that point--how could I not complain? I couldn't use the faucet, the toilet, the washing machine, the refrigerator, the freezer, the stove, the oven, the vacuum cleaner. Well, to be truthful, I couldn't summon up any fretting about my inability to vacuum...but no cordless phone, and no music (I tried singing to myself, which is no easy trick when one is in a complaining mood) ...and.. and...no internet?! To my way of thinking, there were sufficient grounds for malcontent.


Soon enough, however, the electricity was restored and, after considerable time, there was even some water available for use. Just as I was about to wrap up the belly-aching and hope the lawn could soon be put aright, alas, some fate decided that if I really wanted something to grouse about, then why not have the consultation with the plumber produce an edict that my flower bed shall be ripped apart. Yes, yes, the very one I was studying with such satisfaction just this morning and delighting in the way the flowers were becoming so expansive in their beauty, adapting so well to each other and looking altogether lovely.


After that things escalated rather rapidly--my bewailing, that is; but there was the advanced digging and drilling and way more slogging of sloppy mud, as well. I grabbed a quick pre-ripping R.I.P. shot of the bed,


and then I rushed to do a temporary transplant
of the poor flowers, some of them with their very roots chopped off.



















Had I been ruing my lack of music? As I worked at saving my pitiful plants, I was treated to Jack's "Hammer Symphony, Etude in F minor." I must say, although it wasn't what I was hoping to hear, it did fit the occasion rather well, and it neatly drowned out my less-than-pleasant words of ungratefulness.



...To be continued. That's right, you are going to have to check back tomorrow to find out if my further ungratefulness led to yet more calamity, or if, in fact, things hit bottom (the jackhammer, the shovel, the griping) and steadily improved. I'd be happy to fill you in right now, if only I knew...



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THIS IS THE GROWING SEASON, is it not?


















I'm happy to say...things are certainly burgeoning!














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