Song of the day: Cleopatra with “I want you back” (original Jackson 5). It’s a cute enough song, but to hear it a whole day is just a tad too much, thank you very much.
I’m actually amazed that my brain manages to retain the lyrics in the first place. I sure know that I can’t remember them this detailed when I’m actually trying to sing the song intentionally. Hah.
Considering that I’m way behind again, I’m really going to need to learn how to compile a recount a little more compact. Though last night I was reasonably in time, these days I start on the blog way too late. Like today.
Okay, for anyone who knows this Blog, the morning rituals can be skipped. It’s pretty basic and doesn’t alter all that much on a day-to-day basis.
I could, of course say it was a busy day and leave it at that, but seeing as that would completely annihilate the purpose of this thing that really wouldn’t be all that smart.
So, let’s skip to the edit.
Four more pages of the rewrite/edit get done during the first hours of the day. Wrapping up the battle scene, showing an entirely different personality that is not her own (the MPD patient, that is) and making her deal with it is today’s task…it is rather entertaining, on the whole, doing the rewrite as much as the original scene.
We actually laugh a lot with the humor that we insert into the scene.
Next, since the ticks are slowly increasing in their numbers again and are literally sucking the poor dogs dry, we decide to head on out to the pool to do a final dog washing…again…before we fill up the pool for human use this summer. It’s about time, too, considering the temperatures rose up to 27 degrees Celsius today. Summer is on the way for sure.
With most of us dressed in swimwear we repeat the procedure of washing the pack-this time adding just a bit more of the chemical, because so many of the parasites survived the last time. Basically, we all cover the same strategic positions as the last time. Me, up to my knees in the foul smelling mix, and the sibs hauling in one dog after the next as we steadily go through the pack.
It takes a little longer today. The dogs noticed what was up in less than a minute and the majority scattered, determined to steer clear of the pool entirely. Hah. We manage, however, dunking one after the other, until most of them are soaking wet.
There are only six more to go when the chemical stuff starts to sting my skin, so I head on out of the pool and leave the last few dogs to middle sister and big brother.
After hosing down every piece of skin that was exposed, I’m about to start getting ready to go for our planned run in the woods, when it becomes clear that little brother would really much rather build on the walls again today. Considering that he has been feeling poorly about Sita’s death and that the last batch of sand really needs to be used, we build instead…or, more accurately; too.
While we’re waiting for the first batch of cement to be mixed, we debate the options for a new dog that could replace Sita, but what with our funds being too low to even vaccinate the pack, we finally decide that we should at least wait until we’ve saved up enough to deal with that particular aspect.
It is not an easy decision to make, postponing getting a new pack member, but with today’s economy and all its effects, it really is the only options. We’ll just have to endure the sense of loss for the time being.
The debate stops when the cement is ready and we can start working.
Sitabah (weimaraner) is watching me balefully all evening, actually. She wasn’t at all appreciative of the dunking she received during the washing session, but I bear it, (rather gladly) since she is staying at a yard’s distance at the very least while I haul rocks to add to my part of the wall.
Around seven thirty PM, the last bit of cement has been worked into the walls, and at least three layers have been added to a variety of sections where everyone is working separately.
Though dusk is rapidly approaching, we are determined to go for our jog. We wash up, change into sweats and tear off in the truck to head for our usual spot in the woods.
It doesn’t go bad at all; we manage at least three miles in decent time and less walking than the last time. (Yes, we actually checked by driving the car the same route afterwards, hah.)
Once home, it’s already getting dark and we eat spaghetti with vegetable sauce for dinner, made by little sister during our absence. It is a meal that is really appreciated after physical exercise, I’ve found. Nothing like devouring carbs to keep the energy levels up.
During dinner, we watch (sorta, anyway, since it’s playing anyway) this rather annoying show called “The Listener”. I don’t know what the creators were thinking when they made it, but there’s something seriously wrong with the plot and characters. Not to mention that the hero of the show bugs the heck out of me.
Afterwards, the TV goes off…there really isn’t anything interesting on…and big brother and I resume the read/edit, so we’ll be able to send another chapter to the proofreader. It doesn’t go as well as I had hoped, at first. We’re both pretty tired. But in the end, we do manage to go through a page or two, content that the changes made during the rewrite are good.
Then comes the usual trip up to my cabin, followed by the oh-so-familiar evening rituals before the night comes to an end. I could do with some shuteye about now that’s a fact.
No comments:
Post a Comment