So Maurice has lost her mind and spends half the night trying to get us to open the door into our room from the little porch by jumping on the window and crying and we refuse to do that. She just needs to go around the house and come in the cat door but no, she won't, and last night was horrible. What is she thinking?
So Mr. Moon got up and made a spray bottle of water and sprayed her with it through the screen and I fussed at him and then Maurice did, in fact, quit jumping on the window and came in through the cat door and besides that I have a patch of poison ivy on my thigh (?!) that itches like crazy, and also, dear god in heaven if I don't quit having dreams about needing to clean a house I don't know what the hell I'm going to do.
Therefore we were both a bit annoyed this morning and not as sweet as we could have been, Good-bye, see you later! Kiss, kiss...but I've got sheets hanging on the line and it's almost actually chilly here and the chickens are pecking about, even the littles who look like quail and every time I try to take their picture you can't really see them due to their fabulous camouflage.
I started reading Joan Didion's South and West yesterday. It's a tiny book, mostly written-up notes she took on trips in 1970 and I'm in the South portion and as much as I love Didion, I sort of hate these observations of hers and I'm not sure why. She seems so incredibly disdainful of the Gulf Coast south and I'm quite certain there were plenty of things to be disdainful about then and still are and hell yes, it's hot and things mold and so forth but, oh, I don't know. She seems to discuss the various motel pools she swims in as much as anything and also discusses the fact that she wore a bikini which southern women did not.
Well, the writing is beautiful as always.
All right. I have things to do and I'm sure you do too.
Happy Friday, y'all.