TWICE OVER the past week, a premature and gentle rain fell in the middle of the night. The datura are blooming as are red-hot pokers, bridal bouquets, birds of paradise and little white roses. The occasional weed too.
I am of two minds regarding the rain, which normally does not begin till June. It’s good in that it cools our world down. It’s bad in that it encourages grass to grow, grass that will need to be cut, and the lawnmower has yet to receive its annual servicing.
Also awaiting servicing is the Honda, which has reached 210,000 kilometers. I should have dropped it off at the garage a month ago, but we had this Kung Flu thing that put lots of chores on hold. Same for the lawnmower.
My child bride is getting skinny — well, skinny for her, which is still lovely — due to her gym being shut. What she’s lost is a bit of muscle weight, but the gym reopens next week, we were told by phone yesterday. She’ll be pumping iron soon. The Plague Year has caused many people to get fatter, not skinnier, but she’s always been a bit of a contrarian.
As previously announced here, next Sunday is our official end to staying (mostly) at home, no matter what everyone else is doing. Obviously, the gym agrees with us. I’ve already started to bust out. So far this week, I’ve gone to the post office and a carwash, neither of which was “essential.” This afternoon we’re driving downtown to visit a pastry shop for a sack of breakfast biscuits. I can’t abide by Costco’s version anymore.
During that same excursion, we’ll visit a yarn store because my child bride needs more of the purple stuff she prefers this month for a sweater.
Springtime, usually the most miserable season here, has been fairly bearable this year. Must be that climate change everyone is in a tizzy about. If that is the cause, I’m not a climate-change denier, I’m a climate-change lover.