Mischief Managed

Ah, it's good to sit in my saggy old wing chair. I have a feeling that someday soon I'll sit in it and go right through- and be stuck that way, knees against chin, for days. But there's nobody to repair things around here anymore. So I take my chances. Actually, anyone who has a useful skill, like shoe repair, tailoring, furniture reupholstering, small appliance repair- could set up a business and make a fortune here. The Brattleboro Development Credit people would even help you set up, if you employed someone beside yourself. Just saying.

Anyway, it was a day of accomplishments. Strider is stripping and painting her house. Yes, herself.. I know, I can't believe it either, but it's typical. It really doesn't surprise me. I just shake my head and worry. Not being quite so nimble or gung-ho, I set about tackling my bedroom and made good headway there. It's almost entirely functional and I can now move on to emptying the closet. And hanging pictures. It'll be nice to lie in bed and watch movies when the snow comes. Hopefully I'll have a new mattress and boxspring before then. This old set is like Fred and Ethel by the railroad tracks.

I was sad to miss the St. Billy concert but found a wonderful prize behind Door Number One. The ELP bio by Forrester et al finally arrived! Got it for half the price it usually sells for, too. All other reads go to the side. I've been waiting for this book for a decade.

It's a tad muggy tonight; but the unbearable heat is gone so I'm not complaining. Somebody's shooting off a barrage of fireworks in the distance. The peepers and bugs are trilling and scratcheting away, but my cul de sac is sleepy senior citizen quiet. The excitement of the day was a bank robbery downstreet. There'll be more to hear about that in days ahead I'm sure.

From a summery night in a small New England town, I bid you sweet dreams...