The day and a short rant.

I was having a particularly pleasant dream about my books being in the bestseller lists when the monster Boxer awakened me from blessed sleep about three hours before it was time for me to get up. The disturbance was certainly at a most inopportune time, erasing most of the details on the dream, only leaving me with that solitary memory to hold onto when I grabbed the beast and dragged her onto the bed.

I’d fully intended to continue on with the dream, but of course failed when I dropped off into unconsciousness and didn’t surface until the alarm started screeching, causing the usual riot from the pack, demanding to be let out.

Still exhausted, I watch them dash out into the cloudy daylight, hesitating for only a moment before I stagger back to the bed, set the alarm for another forty minutes and crawl under the blankets for “just a few minutes more”.

The extra sleep has helped considerably when I finally do get up, prying my eyes open and carefully evading the pack that has gathered around my bed with apparent indignation of having been left to their own resources for a measly forty, bloody, minutes.

Chaos is actually staring up at me in accusation when I literally step over him to get out of the bedroom uttering an occasional yap, while Lhabana and Gada, the two lovable Labs, are bouncing up and down in front of me to get their much needed pat on the head. You’d think I’ve been gone for a day, if their behavior’s any indication.

I hurry through the morning rituals and head on down to the house, pleased to note that big brother took his time as well, and arrives ten minutes after I do.
Still in my rest days, I don’t feel inclined to do exercises today, and since no laundry has been done during the night, I have a quick breakfast, feed Yadzia, and settle behind the computer with a mug of coffee beside me in record time.

Messages and chats follow, after which I open the psychic drama file and start reading. It’s been a while since I wrote the beginning of the story, and in order to get back in the flow I’ll need to read everything I already wrote down in the past.

CNN is on, just as it is most days when we’re working on the computers, and it distracts us into a heated rant when the reporters start talking about the changing climate.

It amazes me how people still trust scientists that make all sort of predictions about when the icecaps will melt completely. I remember clearly, just a decade ago at most, when all those “knowledgeable” folks were claiming that it would be at least another fifty-to-a-hundred years before things got as serious as they did this year, but there it is. Storms raging all over the globe, temperatures out of whack, it’s visible everywhere, setting all sorts of records.

Also those that claim fluctuations to be normal and that we, as humans, have nothing to do with it…OMG. And these people went to universities, studied for this? It baffles the mind. How can a species counting more than seven billion bodies, NOT have an effect? It’s basic math, really.
If a large bunny population is crowded on too small a territory that area will rapidly disintegrate. How is this any different? Does the regular human being have more or less waste? Do bunnies drive cars; fly planes and whatnot all known and accepted as major polluters? Like I said, basic math.

Focus isn’t all that easy to find today. For some reason my mind keeps drifting off the story as I try to delve into the writing mood. Still, I manage to go through about ten pages before it is time for us to get ready to go to town.

I’m not at all looking forward to our lessons, but it has to be done, and I know it while we drive down the mountain and drop little sister off at the dentist. Once we arrive at the school we’re informed by our teacher that the computers are down, so we get two folders and a couple of test forms, and are send to the back where we are to do everything “the old fashioned way”. Pen, paper and crossing out multiple-choice answers for the next hour and a half.

It doesn’t go bad, or anything. We have done the questions on the computers often enough to get the majority of the questions right, but the mind-shift is somewhat disconcerting. In the time we usually manage at least eight tests, we now only manage four, and are feeling somewhat out of sorts when we leave the school and head to the waiting car to return home.

More than a little pleased that we did the groceries and other shopping yesterday, allowing us to go home immediately for a change.

After the familiar noisy greeting of the pack, and stuffing down a quick snack of French fries and veggies, I start cleaning up the kitchen in preparation of today’s “project”.
More tiling’s in the plans, and I’m just about done setting everything up when the sibs join me.

While little sister starts painting the recently revealed wall for the second time, middle sister prepares the glue for the tiles that I begin cutting for the last section of the floor. It takes some fancy cutting, since there are nooks and crannies, but it goes remarkably well by the time the glue’s done and middle sister cleans up the bare concrete for the actual laying.

For some reason, whenever we are trying to do something on the floor, all the dogs grow this major fascination for that particular section: Each and every one of them gathering around, crowding closer and preferably lying down on a tile we’ve just put down with quite some effort for putting it in right.
In the end we decide laying them in twos, covering them up with a board as soon as they’re down and thus saving them from being jarred by the dogs.

By the time we’re done with the floor, and halfway through the glue, middle sister and I move on to the part of the wall behind the counter that still needs to be done. With me cutting the tiles once more, she starts putting them up.

Big brother works on getting the electrical wiring for the fridges placed on the other side of the kitchen.

Since the freezer and fridge are still in their old place, big brother and I start moving them, giving room to middle sister who then continues with the wall tiles on her own.

Cleaning up the mess that has somehow gathered behind the machines takes at least thirty minutes, and we check the wiring before starting the laborious chore of moving the heavy machinery clear across the kitchen and settling them against the freshly painted wall.

There is a slight hiccup when one is in place. There are three big holes in the wall where old outlets were, and deciding to shut them, I use the leftover glue fill them up and smooth them over until they are once again part of the wall.

That done, the fridge is placed beside the freezer at last.
As soon as they’re set in place, the kitchen suddenly looks totally different. The dimensions have altered, dwarfing the rather big coolers, now that the ceiling is only a couple of feet above them. It also makes the counter cozier while creating lots of space on the other side, where a large expanse of wall has been opened up.

Cleanup. It is a big mess all through the kitchen and it takes us almost an hour to get it all cleared away. It is already past midnight when we are finally done, and I sit down to watch the final episodes of “Frasier” while discussing the vampire saga big brother and I are working on.

At long last, having caught my breath, it is time to head on up to my cabin where I feed the dogs and get ready for the night. It’s been a long day, and I can feel it in my bones by the time I settle behind the computer for a few quick chats and the Blog, of course.

I’m actually happy for the holidays for a once. It means that we won’t be going out and this will certainly allow us to just fall back into the pleasant routines of work and play without annoying interruptions.

Rest day, yay!

I woke up several times during the night–mostly due to the monster Boxer– but oddly enough I am not feeling too bad when the alarm goes off and it is time for me to get up.

The weather’s nice enough when I let the dogs out, and start on the morning rituals, knowing full well that today time is limited due to the necessary grocery shopping that needs to be done, and get to the house under an hour after waking up.

Taking in consideration that we’ll be out for hours today, big brother and I decide to take a rest day. No writing, no workout and blissfully, no laundry. After giving Yadzia his extra portion of food, I start on my own breakfast and turn on the coffee machine before I set my computer up and settle down.

Since time is limited, I spend some of it online, just having some chats on the forums and whatnot, while going over my messages simultaneously.
Big brother and I do a lot of discussing too, “the kitchen project” the next “writing project” and just about anything that comes to mind, making time fly by remarkably fast, when the sibs come down and the day starts for real.

The hour of our departure for town has arrived, and we’re all hurrying through getting ready. Little sister has decided to join us on today’s shopping spree, so we all pile into the truck and head on out.

First off is the specialty store. Some of the few extras that we like to enjoy from my country of birth are running low, so we get those before the store closes at six. Next comes the herboristeria (herbal shop) where I need to get some nutritional supplements and my monthly supply of Parteinio, which is really the only thing that keeps me from having an endless headache/migraine.

Gawd, I’m so happy I found that stuff. I don’t know what about it works so well, considering that it is basically made out of chrysantinums but it is the only remedy that managed to stop a two-year headache I once suffered from.
Nothing had helped, and God knows I tried anything from pharmaceutical painkillers, which only numbed it, acupuncture that did nothing, the chiropractor and whatnot until the lady at the shop suggested Parteinio.

Miracle above miracle it worked. Two weeks later I was astounded when I realized that the constant pounding was gone, allowing me to function normally again for the first time in TWO friggin’ years.

I’m very diligent in keeping my supply of the herbal pills stocked now. I can only do a maximum of four days without them before the headache will start up again, and if I make the error of not taking it for that amount of time, it will take up to a week of constant head-pounding before it has effect once more.

A lesson well learned, I’ll admit. Now I always have a spare bottle lying around.

But anyways, once I get the necessary supplies, we head on over to the El Corte Inglés, where we need to buy new ink for the printer.

Next comes the video store. Since we need to go to our lessons tomorrow anyway, we decide to rent a couple of movies for our viewing pleasure since when we’re not to working on the kitchen tonight.

The last store, the supermarket is up, and with two carts in front of us we start piling in the supplies that need to see us through the next two weeks. Putting everything on the checkout counter, back in the carts and then into the car takes quite some time but at last we’re heading back home, knowing full well that we’ll need to lug everything down to the house and place it in the storage still, before we can relax.

An hour later, with the last bit of yesterday’s chili filling our stomach’s big brother and I finish printing the W.I.’s for a review swap I’m doing with an author in the US before I finally flop down in an armchair and lounge with Chaos on Dax on my lap.

First movie up is “Hancock”. Either I’m not in the proper mindset, or the movie’s slow in starting up. What with me being preoccupied these days, the first could very well be the case, but once the story gets going I find myself intrigued with the concept. It is very different than I’d expected, I admit.

I didn’t find it really funny, which was what I’d presumed after seeing trailers and such, but sad, actually. There was a very intense surprise in the storyline, that had me intrigued by the time the ending came around. The premises of the story were very original, giving the “superhero” theme a rather intriguing twist halfway into the movie.

The concept surprised me, to say the least, hinting at something a little deeper which I wish the director, or author had expanded on a little. They could have let out a lot of the “fun stuff” and focused on Hancock’s past, for as far as I was concerned…that would have been fascinating.

Also, the ending was very intense, sad too.
What left me confused was that final scene at the hospital, however. I would have sworn I’d seen it before when a creepy déjà vu feeling swept through me. Almost as if I knew the exact sequence of the scene, when I know I didn’t.

Considering that tonight’s rest night, we immediately put on the next DVD. “The Dark Knight” showing a disappointing weak plot, acting that could have been done better, dragged out scenes of car pursuits and whatnot that could have done with some serious cutting. The only one who played an intriguing role was Heath Ledger, who gave and entirely new and seriously creepy flavor to the Joker role.

When I heard he was up for an award for playing the Joker in this batman role, I figured that it was just an honorary nomination due to his untimely death, but having watching him in the movie; I do have to say that acting-wise, it was brilliantly played.

I hardly recognized him, actually. His voice was completely different, his poise seriously messed up, and all in all a totally different person than he usually played.
The movie might not have been the best, but with Ledger’s playing, it remained interesting.

It’s late when the movie finishes, and I hurry on up to my cabin, chasing the dogs up and feeding them quickly. I’ve just about finished that particular chore when big brother comes scavenging through my book collection, and we end up talking for half an hour about the first movie before we both decide to call it a night and I’m left to start on my nightly session online.

Tomorrow is going to be another busy day…or at least parts of it, so with this I’ll finish today’s Blog and see if I can get to bed early for a change.

Is the day over yet?

Strange dreams this night. First there was a confusing mixture of the last episode from “Dexter” and “CSI” which confused me to some extent. And then, after the monster Boxer woke me up for the second time this morning, I think I had a dream about Posh and Becks, and them needing a nanny for their kid. They have several I believe, but in the dream there was one. Weird.

Don’t know where the heck the dream came from, considering I haven’t been a nanny in…gawd, ten years, and of course the fact that I never met, and rarely even hear about the Beckhams these days.
In the dream they did have a wonderful house, however. It was huge, halfway underground, I believe, filled with plants, large windows, wonderfully eclectic furniture, and a toddler that was really sweet.

Dreams. They’re odd things, when all’s said and done. Take this one for example. What is the use of it? I can understand interesting and adventurous dreams, I even get the scary ones, but these are about as comprehensible as daytime television.

I’m feeling pretty miserable when I wake at my usual time and shove the monster Boxer in the back and let the rest of the dogs out into the yard.
The feeling’s both physical and mental, with no way to explain it or make it go away. I’m actually close to tears, which makes no sense at all as I procrastinate through the morning rituals and then head down to the house.

What with the recent escapes of several pack-members, we planned to do some fence fixing today. Seeing my mood, grandpa and big brother don’t push for me to join them, and leave me in peace while I give Yadzia his extra meal. The poor lab has been loosing weight this past week, and starting to get concerned I use the leftover soup to poor over dog food, bread and whatever else I can find to make a big portion so I can fatten him up a little.

It takes a bit of effort to be able to separate the blond Lab from the rest of my pack, eagerly trying to sneak their way between my legs as I open the pantry door and call for Yadzia to come and eat.
I actually need to wedge Knight II against the wall with my knee, in order to get the Labrador inside without company, and stand there at the door, occasionally chancing a peek inside, for ten minutes while he devours the meal with obvious enthusiasm.

At long last he’s done, wagging his tail like mad and bouncing around me when I take the advantage of Knight II wanting to check out the empty dish by locking him up so he won’t try to bowl me over when I head out into the yard to join big brother and grandpa near the section of the fence where the holes have been made.

They’re pretty much done by the time I arrive, but I do manage to make myself useful by braiding wires through the last hole. Next grandpa and I spend several minutes on the ground, sorting out a pile of bolts and screws that have somehow ended up in the middle of our rocky dirt road, digging it all out and placing it in a plastic bag when the small box that had contained them has obviously been crushed by the truck.

I’m thinking that when we repaired the gate the other day we forgot the box and left it on the middle of the road where it stayed until we left for town on Thursday. I do faintly remember hearing a thud, without being able to identify the cause on that day.

But anyways, once we’ve saved what we can from the supply, I head back down to the house to start on today’s laundry. There’s a nice dry batch, and a wet one to hang, and I do it by rote rather than thinking about it. Routines are marvelous on days such as these, I’ll admit. They allow me not to think about anything and still do my chores.

Since I’m feeling nauseous I don’t have breakfast, and start the day on a glass of orange juice rather than anything more substantial.
The few Sunday messages get worked through after I turn on my computer, and afterwards, big brother and I go over the last few pages we changed yesterday. At long last we declare the vampire story done and I’m more than a little relieved.

Its not like the story is bad or anything. Not at all. The story’s great, but my present mood just doesn’t allow me to enjoy it.

What follows is writing a query letter and a short synopsis. It takes a solid hour, but in the end we both agree that it’s good and transfer everything to big brother’s computer so he can send the entire package out, while I half-heartedly start searching through my files to see if any of the stories draw my attention.

In the end I narrow “my next project” down to two stories. One is a paranormal, drama/thriller, about a psychic who’s reluctant to help the authorities due to some events in the past.
The second one’s a comedy romance, about a writer with disastrous luck, which has made her a famous reporter.
Tough choice, I’ll admit. I would put the question in a survey, to see which would get the most votes, so to speak, but…well, not right now. Maybe later.

Dusk has settled by that time, and I decide to do something, anything, lest I start screaming, or worse. I would call it the screamy/headbangy feeling, but that would be overstating it, I think.
Dinner. It has to be made, and since all the ingredients are available I start preparing a solid chili-sin-carne for this evening’s meal.

The power goes off halfway through the preparation and lasts for fifteen minutes before suddenly turning back on. Looks like it’s going to be another one of “those” nights, I muse while blowing out the oil lamp I lit just minutes earlier and scowl.

It takes little time, and once the meal’s done, I actually manage to choke down a small portion. I’m far too stressed out to calmly digest the food, though, and soon I head on out to the courtyard to get a bucket of soft-yellow paint, so I can start on the wall that we displayed with last night’s demolition.

The paint in the bucket is a bit thick from a full year without use, but after adding some water to make it useable, I start slapping it on the wall. I usually am rather quick at painting, but not today. Since I’m doing this particular chore with the intension of keeping myself busy, I go through the motions slowly and steadily, actually grabbing a chair for the ground level sections and just slapping the paint on.

The electricity goes off again, but I pay it little heat after I light the oil lamp again and continue to paint that way for the next ten minutes of darkness before it switches back on.

By the time I finish with the wall, both sisters have come down and we decide to start tiling the section of the floor that’s bare now that the old counter’s gone.

Back, when it was built the house was barely done with only concrete floors. Since we needed the kitchen sooner than the actual floors, we’d put it in before the tiles, leaving middle sister and me with the not-so-wonderful chore of fitting and matching new tiles into the missing sections.

While middle sister is mixing the glue I get down on the floor to clean it properly before use. There are layers of grime to scrape off, and an actual chisel is needed when I find big lumps of the old glue sticking out from the edges of the tiles already there.

It takes some time to get it all ready but in the end, middle sister takes over the actual laying while I start cutting the tiles we need to fit in. The new ones are not an exact match, but they’re close enough as slowly the biggest part of the concrete is covered.

While we’re in the midst of laying the tiles, the dogs decide to come check out why we’re working on the floor, thus making it necessary for little sister and brother to get a large board to block the part of the kitchen we’re working on. This, of course, is not something the dogs appreciate, and the majority of middle sister’s and my pack are gathered behind the board, occasionally hopping up to peer at us with miserable expressions on their faces.

Finished with the section of the floor that was planned for today’s laying, we move to the counter, and use the remainder of the glue on the cooking side of the kitchen, where small blue and white tiles will cover the wall.

It is close to midnight when we’re finally done, and the other sibs join us in the cleanup. There’s a small disaster while we’re shifting the protective board to lay it over the newly laid tiles, however. My pack is eager to join me in the large niche that was closed off for a full two hours, and while they’re crowding close, little Dax’s paw somehow ends up under the board big brother and I are putting over the tiles.

Now this wouldn’t have been a big deal if Yadzia, Chaos and Amri–all big and heavy dogs–hadn’t decided to bounce right on top of the board big brother and I just barely manage to keep from smashing right down to the floor…and therefore sparing poor Dax some serious damage.

There is a lot of noise when the Pocket Beagle (Dax) squeals, and the rest of my pack thinks that there’s some excitement going on, but in the end the paw gets freed and calm returns.

Once cleanup is done, I eat a few crackers with apricot jelly before big brother and I spend about an hour at the kitchen table discussing the possibilities for the next book project.

With the arrival of one in the morning I call it a day and head to my quarters.
Sleep. It is all I really want at this time.

Escaped dogs and...Demolition. Yay!

Not a good night. I lie awake, my mind running a mile a minute well into the early hours of morning, not finding myself drifting off until past 7 AM and am more than a little annoyed with my inability to shut my brain off.

I’m definitely punchy when the alarm screeches in my ear–easily piercing through the ear plugs–and it makes the dogs go insane, the way it usually does.
The monster boxer has woken me up four times already, my blankets are halfway down the bed, and I’m seriously aggravated when I shove her in the back yard and then make my way through the rest of the pack, making even more of a racket than they usually do.

The weather’s pleasant enough, but since the lack of sleep is having it’s effects I can’t really appreciate it as I start the morning rituals and get ready to head on down and to the house.
Laundry, the steady routine of it calms me a little, and after I’ve taken off the dry, hung the wet and shove breakfast down while standing at the counter, I feel remotely human again.

Before I start on my morning coffee and much needed cigarette, I fold the large pile of laundry I’ve deposited on the kitchen table, heave my computer bag in place, hook everything up and give my system the final boost that should get me through the first part of the day.

Messages aplenty today, but in due time, just about when the sibs come downstairs, big brother and I resume our editing session. Two more chapters to go and then we should have the latest project over and done with. Should, being the operative word here.

It goes well enough, right up until grandpa calls from his place, announcing that Prama (pointer mix) has managed to dig her way through the fence again, loosing the majority of the pack in the upper garden, while she has somehow squeezed her way through the recently fixed gate.

A disaster waiting to happen! Can you imagine what would happen if some unsuspecting person is around while the pack breaks free? Oh. My. God! Just thinking about that makes me break out in hives. Until we’ve managed to fix the fences properly–they have been up for a good ten years, and they’re showing some serious wear–the dogs are confined to the courtyard as due punishment.

Right now they are definitely too eager to roam to be trusted, especially Prama and Tadaika–the eager little bastards–who seem to be the cause every time.

The barely contained disaster-in-the-making puts a serious damper on our editing; thoughts whirling with all the trouble this event could cause, making it hard to concentrate. Still, with a lot of effort we manage to hack our way through it, finally reaching the last page…when big brother suddenly claims that one particular scene still isn’t “sitting well”.
The rest he feels confident about now, but that scene, the dialogue–he waves his hand vaguely–it is “off”…whatever that means?

Since he is unable to come up with the “right” way it is supposed to go, I get rather frustrated by the entire thing. At this point I just want to tell him to shut up, or offer something I can work with, until I finally just delete the “offensive” scene and do a complete rewrite that appears to satisfy him at last.

I still don’t know what was “off” about the first one, but don’t care at this time and try to make myself take a step back in order to look at it objectively. In the end, I decide that it doesn’t really matter in the bigger scheme of things. This scene goes as well as the first in my opinion, so if this one meets big brother’s high standards, so be it.

The new scene will need another edit, of course, but with a little luck we’ll be sending the story to a publisher tomorrow or Monday morning at the latest. What with the Holidays coming up there really isn’t a time limit, but we figure we might as well get it over with and move on to something new.

Seriously relieved with the semi-done status of the story, I shut everything down at last. Next I wrestle my way through the dogs, and head to the kitchen to recycle last night’s soup. Would be a waste to throw it out, so we might as well finish it.

I let the meal digest for a bit before heading back to the kitchen for cleanup and resuming “the project”.
The small spice drawers certainly make the whole look good, creating a rather robust image for the top cabinets as I clean up the counters and then suck in a deep breath before turning towards where the last section of the old kitchen is waiting.

It looks like a disaster area, really. Covered with tools, cases, wood and debris that have been tossed there during last night’s cleanup. It is taunting me, and–sucking up the distinct feeling of not-wanting-to-tackle the mess–I dig in.

First thing’s first: Removing everything and anything, and putting it somewhere out of the way, without putting it out of reach.
I’m most pleased when both sisters come down and join in, moving back and forth to get the tools out of the way, while I remove old cabinet doors and crawl into the open spaces revealed to see how everything is fastened. Screws, thank God!

With the rapid removal of the stuff piled on the counter, and little sister moving back to the new counter to slap on the third layer of paint on the underside of the spice drawer casings, little brother comes down too and gets to work on the oak wood frames for their second treatment with varnish.

At long last I have room to start disassembling and twist into a variety of uncomfortable positions until it’s just age keeping the old counter together.

Middle sister is just finishing up removing the last few screws around the corner, when big brother joins in too, and decide to just jerk the counter off with one mighty heave. It sends both middle sister and me scrambling back just in time before the oak wood sections of the counter come off. Age has made the glue brittle and we are able to save most of the oak for later use, should we wish to do so.

The carcasses of the cabinets are now revealed, and since they refuse to come loose, I call out a warning to the sibs–they’re removing the old shelves I’ve put aside–and bring my foot up for a solid kick against one of the old walls.
Did a slight miscalculation on the strength part, I’ll admit. Almost gave two dogs a heart attack when the section takes flight and lands a solid yard away. Hah.

Much to my surprise, the rest remains standing and it takes three more kicks before the entire structure finally crumbles. With the way the old kitchen looked there at the end, I’d figured a strong breeze would have knocked it over, but it actually took some effort. Go figure!

Bit by bit the frame is removed, at long last the high, storage cabinet in the corner is free enough for me to start removing screws and hooks. It comes down without mishap, and is removed until at long last we’ve reached the foundation/bottom.

At this point we’re all joking about the possibility about what we could find underneath the section that remains. Phrases such as; “It’s alive” and “I definitely see something moving down there,” are tossed back and forth, becoming more outlandish with every minute that passes.

There is the remote possibility of snakes, of course, which little brother gleefully points out, actually freaking me out for a bit when I see something move through a crack. It’s an old electrical wire that big brother’s yanking out on the other side, and I profusely “thank” little brother for putting the idea in my head.

There also is the rat infestation we had a few years back, and there is a distinct smell coming up from what used to be closed off completely, bearing testament of it. Rather than getting any closer than is absolutely necessary, I once again use my foot for the removal, holding my breath, just in case something jumps out.

Now, I don’t have any problems with rats. I do however have serious problems with things jumping at me when I least expect it.

Nothing does, much to all our relief when just a soft kick breaks through the eleven-year-old pressed-wood without trouble, showing only one old rat nest which is spreading a rather nasty musky smell by then. The remainder of debris and the likes are removed posthaste–a can of odor remover soon half empty, since the smell is bad and nauseates me–by the time we’re done and decide that it is a job well done.

For the first time since we build the house, we are able to see a section of unpainted wall, and it announces that the old kitchen is now truly gone. Yay!

The sibs stay for the duration of cleanup and then disappear to their own quarters to resume their most recent discovery of being able to follow piano lessons on youtube. For the past two days I’ve been listening to slow, offbeat, but rapidly improving reps of familiar pop tunes. Once my schedule clears a little, I’ll be sure to give it a try, too. I’ve wanted to play the piano since I was a toddler.

It is around eleven in the evening by then, and with the often repeated reps sounding in my ear, big brother and I apply wide strips of aluminum to the open areas between the ceiling and top cupboards, allowing us to use to tops as storage too, once we get them attached.

At long last today’s work is done, and big brother and I settle in front of the TV to watch the recorded last episode of season one of “Dexter”. It’s such a shame that this will be the last one for a while. It’s a wonderfully twisted show, but since the channel that broadcasted it terms it as “not successful” due to too few ratings, it is unlikely that the next season will come on any time soon.

I’m feeling a bit edgy by then, and though Dexter is always fascinating to watch, I’m kind of relieved when it is time for me to head on up to my cabin for the night. I don’t know where this edgy feeling comes from but it’s frustrating as heck.

Just need to feed the dogs, go through my messages and write the Blog, and then I can call it a day.