Bless me, fada
Today, I set up he trams. In the basement. And waited a suitable number of hours. Then, I took down the traps. Including the snare. All in all, a proof of procedure. I first set up traps before man walked on the moon. A satisfying set of procedures that can lean to noise if done without due care and attention. This has nothing to do with hunting, or animal control. Think drums.
We had visitors from the campground. Our campground. Turns out that most of the usual clients have moved on. Like us. Building a real house, too close to the campground, was our excuse.
The blue bags are curbed for another month. I don’t want to be classed as a hoarder, when it comes to empty milk jugs and empty Amazon cartons.
I hit a personal goal, this morning, when I posted my lessons in that language acquisition program. Two thousand consecutive days. It started simply; two days in a row. And then the “nag” becgan. A cheeky owl letting me know that it was time. And then the next day and the next. A duty, with the only punishment coming from my pride. Will I be back tomorrow? For sure. I give credit to their learning strategy. Although I ignore the accents, and pretend that I don’t have one, if asked, I remain conscious that in a real world they would be important. “Bless me, fada”. A private laanguage joke. And since the whole thing is free, my budget remains balanced.
I just woke the dog, and he was not impressed. My trip…
