TubaOrNotTuba

Here’s a challenge. Write about what you did today when you did, essentially, nothing. In my case, the only checkmark on the progress chart is that I intercepted the UPS man before the dog could go all neurotic on him. For the record, the parcel contained a battery to recharge a cellphone. Since I don’t use one of those (either the battery or the phone), it qualifies as a “good deed”.

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Had our first visit from a raccoon, last evening. I’m not sure if it “means” anything, but I’m worried. Unlike the coyotes that wander through, or the squirrels that are here for the seeds, the proverbial bandit of the woods is an unknown quantity. Will he sneak in if we lower our guard? The dog was on guard, but against an intelligent adversary, he’s hopeless. Offer the dog one of his own biscuits and profit from the distraction. We had the beast in the beam of my best flashlight, and he preened!

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The supper is over, the dishes are done; for that and so much more I give thanks.

This is a holiday weekend, up here in Canada. The last moment of repose, for many, before the theatrics of December. I could have gone all “involved” and did the outdoors up for winter. Raked leaves, except that with conifers that isn’t an issue. We now have a new oak sapling to fit into a hole (not yet dug). In future, should the little thing prosper, there will be leaves… I didn’t panic; the temperature is still up in the high teens; tee shirt and barefoot weather. Maybe next week, or the week after, the seasonal inspiration will kick in. For today, just me with my roast beef.

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“Let’s go for a walk” (she says). “It’ll be fun” (she says). “Good for us all” (she says). The dog was probably right. I should have put on the brakes, right there. Not me, though. And now there’s a polite image on social media of the dog and myself, on a leafy trail, looking like we do this sort of thing all the time.

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Not sure if it qualifies as a medical condition, but I have a soft spot in my heart. For old photos. No kiddies, your selfies from last week don’t qualify. I want a bit of history in my pics, the better to learn things.

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Maybe it’s time to purchase the maintenance manual. For our lawn tractor, I mean. Had an offer to do the fall tuneup, if I would pick up the necessary parts beforehand. It was then that I realized that I didn’t know how to begin. What did the parts look like? Where are the part numbers? I turned to the Internet, and did find out what the model number might be for the tractor. Used a camera; kneeling in the gravel and scribbling long alphanumeric strings on my wrist is not nearly as much fun as I had hoped.

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Is there something happening? Three different households have been emptied in the last twenty-four hours. Sure, they’re not “permanent people”; there’s a class of citizen that never sees the beauty of a winter storm in this area. But… but… storms are far off, in the distant future, right?.

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The small campfire, over by the far corner of the lawn, wasn’t enough. Sure, this might be one of the last evenings of the season; not sufficient. With a full harvest moon, temperate winds (17C) and a “full tank of gas” as the dog likes to say, it was time to wander.

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This morning, we awoke to discover that our front yard was now (technically) a crime scene. We had heard nothing, but that’s the way with the best murder mysteries (as I learned while reading Sherlock Holmes stories in high school). Even the dog had remained silent. In fact, if he hadn’t required his constitutional outside, we might not have noticed until much later in the day. So far, the authorities haven’t been contacted, because I am at a loss to decide who actually has jurisdiction. As the hours pass, the chances of the perp being found are declining (I learned that from some TV show).

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“It” happens, on average, once every five years. The nation gets a new titular head, appointed rather than elected. We all nod and life goes on because, really, that’s exactly what the job “is”. A nod to protocol. However, for the first time in my life, today, I watched the swearing in ceremony. Too much time on my hands or something.

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