Although I now move in sloth-time, it seems that I seldom get to lounge around. I left the house for a couple of hours last Thursday and, when I oozed through the front door, I found that Peanut had broken into the utility room and (with the help of his faithful sidekick, Lovey) had gotten into the kibble. He resembled a fully stuffed bratwurst (emphasis on the brat). After he had pooped his body weight twice (TMI?), I started the vigil to see how badly he had upset his system. It's been a week of special diet (as in, I get up at 4A to poach chicken and cook rice) but I think we are making progress. At least Lovey had the decency to look contrite, although that tends to be her normal expression.
I'm gearing up for the "Big One" this evening and into tomorrow. I do hope the snow (10+") is as dry, light and fluffy as they predict because I can handle dry and fluffy. I cannot handle wet and heavy. Thank goodness I was able to shuffle around and get the interior of the carport organized, so that I could slide my car in. She's zipped in, nice and snug. The chickens have water and feed, the sheep and llama have a full, heated water bucket and plenty of hay. Good thing, as it will take me a long while to make my way to either coop or barn in the morning. Neighbor No. 1 is lined up for deck clearing and roof raking. Neighbor No. 2 will plow the drive. I don't have to go anywhere tomorrow. Hurrah!
When I am not providing hand servant service to dogs and cat, I have been furiously working on some holiday knitting. To entertain myself, I have been watching an old series starring Boris Karloff as James Lee Wong, detective. It is so bizarre that I can't stop watching it. Who, on god's green earth, thought Boris Karloff would make an excellent Chinese detective? It looks as if he is wearing an oiled, rubber toupee. At least he doesn't deliver his lines in the stereotypical bad English (chop-chop) of the Charlie Chan era. He sounds just like Boris Karloff. You really have to see it to believe it. The supporting cast is cringe-worthy. It's as fascinating as a train wreck.
I got through my annual dermatology check-up with relative ease. There was one dodgy bit that she sent off for a biopsy, but everything else was okeydokey. And the dodgy bit was on the opposite side to my surgery. Apparently, this is a big deal. My doctor is 12 and I do love the nurses and medical staff at the center. The nurse that picked me up from the examining room to take me to the procedure room (they've gotten so fancy), was warbling away and swung the door open to discover the previous patient - an elderly man - was still in the process of getting dressed. Luckily for all of us, all he had left were his socks and shoes. As he looked up, startled, and the nurse gasped in horror, I said, "Well, now that I have seen your bare feet, I suppose we are engaged." Sometimes I have no idea where these things come from. At least he had a sense of humor, and we all had a good laugh. I was sent to the ultraviolet room to wait. I contemplated an upright suntan.
I'll check back, apres storm...