The weather has turned and the house is still being scraped. Luckily, it really hasn't rained all that much. But the nights are down in the low 50's and it's been overcast. It's hard to remember that last week it was 90-something. I enjoy the cool temperatures, but I'd forgotten how the dank and damp go to my hands (and feet). Usually we have another few weeks of cold followed by hot weather.
Yesterday I watched Arthur while Mark and my dad scraped the house. Today Mark and Arthur are going off on a hike and it's my turn to scrape. If it were up to me I think I'd start painting. There are some places we have to calk the house, and we need to powerwash the shingles.
Arthur continues to grab any stick longer than he is tall and prance about with it singing the first phrase of the Abbot's Bromley Horn Dance. He also requests the Bromley procession music daily.
On the writing front: I consolidated various snips of my short story from my palm pilot into one word processing file and now I need to sit down and write the connective plot.
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