Here in the south it's been summer for about two months. Back in Boston two months of summer is followed by fall and so I have found myself thinking about fall a lot. Whenever I mention this to David he reminds me that there are still months of summer, and yet I can feel the pull of fall in the future.
This week I found a dying mouse in my garage. He was sitting there with labored breath and did not scurry away when I came by. I scooped him up in a dust bin and moved him to the flower bed and felt that I had done a good deed. At least he could die shaded by flowers and not surrounded by car exhaust and the detritus of the children.
Satisfied with myself I drove away, dropping the children off at their art and gymnastics classes. When I returned home I drove into the garage. Upon getting out of the car and opening the trunk I discovered that the mouse had not been content to die among the flowers, but felt the need to make a political statement and had planted himself once more in the garage where he was run over by my car.
Coping with entrails are not a part of adult life which I particularly relish so I delegated the mouse corpse removal to David, who having missed so many rotted animal opportunities in the past most surely had it coming.
Happily I have found no life at all in the basement, which is a place I have been spending a lot of time as of late. I went through the boxes labeled "Christmas" and was rewarded with beach towels, sun screen, and the final piece of the slipcover to the couch.
Lately I have been indulging in one of my favorite summer past times. I have been reading British chick lit- more specifically the kind where the woman has a cottage and a garden and wears wellies. One of my favorites of this genre is "Hen's Dancing"by Raffaella Barker. I need some recommendations of more of this sort of book. Please let me know if you know some!
In the meantime I will be trying to educate the children and keep the squalor at bay, though honestly, it's awfully tricky to do both of these at once.