For a moment this morning the sun came out and my eyes almost exploded with the unfamiliar power of unfiltered light.
It's okay though. It's hidden again.
A text came through at 1:39 a.m. which I did not read until 7:30 a.m. It was from Lily. She was puking and having chills and being miserable and Gibson had begun to puke too.
Oh boy. Here we go.
I sure hope Jessie and Vergil don't get it. This virus seems to have a fairly long incubatory period. If Mr. Moon and I get it, I want us to go ahead and get it now and get it over with before Mexico. In the words of that immortal redneck comedian, we need to just GET 'ER DONE!
I have no idea who that guy is and I don't care to know but sometimes you do indeed just have to get 'er done and that's all there is to it. There are worse words to live by.
Jessie and Vergil got up early to go kayaking with Aint Liz and Vergil knocked softly on our door to ask if we wanted to go too.
We didn't get up until nine. We're old and lazy. I've made oatmeal. That's the extent of my being productive so far this morning. Eventually I'll eat some.
Elvis is on the kitchen porch trumpeting his food-demand crow. Those chickens are so funny. They peer through the screen door and you know they're thinking, "You have food in there. Give us some."
I usually do. They've been laying pretty regularly lately and I like to support their efforts. Plus, I just love them.
Well, this is the news from Lloyd today. We're moving slow and waiting for the vomiting to begin although doesn't it seem as if these things always strike in the middle of the night? And why is that? I have no idea.