I had something I had to do in town this morning at nine o'clock which is about the time I'm generally having my second cup of coffee. Or, okay. Maybe first.
As I was bumbling about the house trying to get ready to leave I kept saying, "Whoo-boy."
Which was silly but that's what came out of my mouth.
As hard as it was to wake up and then actually get up on a deliciously chilly morning when the bed felt so cozy and warm and where Maurice was sleeping so peacefully cuddled up to my side, I found it strangely not unpleasant when I did. Oh, I did bumble, as I said, and fumble too, but I managed to get myself dressed and fed and sufficiently coffeed-up before I hit the road.
And after I did what I needed to do I did my shopping and got home before two o'clock instead of around four which is when I usually get home from town so there wasn't that frantic hurry-hurry pressure to get the car unloaded and everything put away and me changed out of my going-to-town clothes and into my real clothes and then to scurry about and get the small things that I feel I must do every day done before I sit down here to write, before I start our supper.
It all felt so luxurious. And on top of all of that, Mr. Moon and a friend of ours went out to Dog Island today to truly start making a list of what needs to be done and what materials will be needed and maybe a few measurements and so forth.
As many of you know, there is no bridge to Dog Island and the only access is by boat and then you have to dock at the "marina" and hopefully the beater car you have parked there will start and you can haul all the things you need for your visit to your house and then haul them up the steps (the house is on stilts) and through the door. This is hard enough if the things you need are "just" water and food and booze and ice and books and clothes and fishing stuff and blah, blah, blah. But if you need a new washer and dryer (we do) or a new toilet or sink or stove or hot water heater or lumber for repairs or flooring or furniture, all of that is a major hassle. I mean- just think about what a pain it is to get a new couch from the truck to the living room and multiply that by about fifty.
I am exhausted just talking about it.
And we do need a new couch and a new bed and a new toilet and lumber and flooring and of course all of the tools you need to install and repair and so forth also have to be brought over and have you ever once seen a repair job happen where there wasn't at least one part that someone had to go to the hardware store to pick up?
No. You have not. So. Back in the funky car (and ours is not running right now which is another project) and back into the boat and across the bay you go and you hope that the Ace hardware in the little town there has what you need and, and, and...
ANYWAY, as you can imagine, many, many lists need to be made and revised and studied and shopped with and I'm thinking that the place may be ready for occupation in about 2035.
At which time, I will be dead.
But that's where Mr. Moon is today, happy as an old coon dog, knowing that he's going off for yet another hunt, ready to show the pups how it's done.
And it's been nice (and I admit it) to have a quiet house to roam around in. I expect the men to roll up anytime and I have a pot of chicken and rice soup for them. I expect they'll be so very tired.
When I went out to the garden to pick some kale and collards and mustards and carrots to go into the soup, I discovered that the cucumbers and some of the squashes are coming up.
Those pudgy little leaves are swoon-worthy to me. I have been buying canning jar lids a box at a time lately, hoping for a bounty of lovely things to pickle and preserve. I am absolutely NOT counting my chickens before they hatch but I am prudently setting aside what I may need if we get a good amount of vegetables this year. I have ordered my favorite rattlesnake beans to plant from an heirloom seed company and they should be arriving any day now. Oh, if only this beautiful weather would continue all summer which would make gardening such a joy instead of the sweaty, hellish act it will eventually become.
Face it, buttercup. You live in Florida where anything worth doing is going to require vats of sunscreen, gallons of Deet, and the constitution of either a mad dog or an Englishman.