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2002-05-21 - 11:38 a.m.

Had I not left the house today nothing in the workplace would've been different, and certainly in the larger scope of things nothing in the world would've changed.

The only changes would've been in how I spent my day. I sure as hell would not have started out my day with a frantic two-hour hunt for misplaced state reporting forms, nor would I have--once again--considered the need to release—or at least strangle--one of my secretaries.

On a typical late May day, not being able to leave my squirrel estate would've resulted in a breath-holding, feet-stomping tantrum. In years past, late May days have been ideal for anchoring the boat in a back cove and lounging away the afternoon with either good friends or loyal dog and good book. But we've had anything but typical spring days. Instead, we've suffered through a record-breaking spring. In April the thermometer spiked and we broke heat records. In May we've had record breaking rains and floods, and broken 70-year-old cold temperature records.

So, if this isn’t boating weather, what would’ve happened if I hadn’t left the house today?

The alarm clock would’ve been disabled and I would’ve slept past five a.m.. Well, depending on the morning disposition of the hounds, maybe I would’ve. Their internal clock is set to five, so pushing past get-up time is a Herculean task. I’ve learned it’s easier to get up and let them complete their morning goings-on then return to bed than it is to try and convince them to sleep late. Emma, the mellow and malleable baby, will linger longer than Blue, who demands, first by a series of barks then with pawing at the bed, that we keep to a routine time schedule.

I would forego the quick workday breakfast of either bagel or cereal and go for something a little more appealing and exotic. Eggs Benedict or Love Child Quiche. Or really get carried away and whip up a Bacon and Egg Pie. Remember, Viv, when we attended the Royal Wedding and dined on Bacon and Egg Pie, kippered herring and champagne? And I would've had time to grind fresh beans and make a large pot of Starbuck’s Breakfast Blend. Weather permitting (which it isn’t and hasn’t been all spring), I would’ve eaten on the deck, then moved to the porch rocker for long minutes of coffee sipping and bird watching. My regular diners include: Orioles, Cardinals, Nuthatches, Chickadees, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Red-headed Woodpeckers, Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Downy Woodpeckers, and both House and Gold Finches. I would have Dad’s World War II binoculars handy to scan for the Indigo Buntings rumored to be in the area.

By late morning I might’ve taken a stroll to the edge of the timber to putter around—golf club ready for slithery things—in my butterfly and hummingbird gardens. I could, if I could tell flowers from weeds, spend some time wedding the beds, lay down another application of Preen and set the sprinkler to work. Back at the house, I could tend to the flowers in containers on the deck and front porch.

Maybe (domestic chores are always last on my list) I would’ve finished moving winter sweaters out of my closet and into storage and arranged my daily summer attire (t-shirts, cut-off sweats and Nike shorts and swimsuits) on the shelves. If overcome with either a blast of housemistress energy or just plain guilt, I might’ve shoved the sweeper around, but I doubt I would’ve been overcome with either that much energy or that much guilt. But I would’ve taken the time to replace the rusted out burner in the grill and planned what to have with ranch burgers for dinner.

On my trips through the house, I would’ve walked past the briefcase holding a Federal grant application with a rapidly approaching due date. I might notice the loathsome case on my first couple of passes, but I would work through my growing sense of deadline dread and go about frittering away the day.

By mid-afternoon I would be ready to settle in and finish reading Mile High Club, a Kinky Friedman novel, this one even raunchier than most, then start a new T. Jefferson Parker mystery. The chilled 54-degree air would’ve forced inside reading, and I would have been restless because it’s May and I should have been outside doing one damn thing or another.

Not much of any consequence would’ve happened had I not left the house today. But, hell, not much of any consequence happened because I left the house and reported to the workplace, either.

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