Nurse sore finger.
Feed chickies. Feed cats. Feed birds.
Make coffee. Eat breakfast.
Load dishwasher, clean up kitchen. Drink more coffee. Think about sore finger.
Wash a load of Mr. Husband’s shirts. Hang to dry outside, since it’s sunny and windy.
Straighten up where the smaller people have been. Do these chores with index finger elevated and try to keep it out of harm’s way.
Look at garden and try to figure out how to add in extra raised beds and where the wood will come from. Buy it new? Bite your tongue.
Post a want-ad on Freecycle asking for corrugated aluminum or plastic to fix the chicken coop roof.
Dig through Freecycled box of fabric that broke my fingernail last night. Find that it is almost entirely full of cut-up jeans, ragged ends of denim, seams, T-shirts so filthy they are untouchable, and some fiddly bits of nylon, satin and polyester fabrics. Most of it goes into trash. A small handful of felt squares, 2 bandanas, some purple tissue paper and one piece of quilt material, the size of a handkerchief, is all that is salvagable out of this finger-breaking monster. Well, the box is big enough to use for the growing chicks by next week. I’ll grant you that. Aside, it was a crappy thing to do to call it quilt material and then shove a box of moldy jeans in tatters at me. Karma — she’s a bitch. That’s all I have to say about that item.
Bring in shirts when they are dry. Sort what needs to be ironed. Save ironing for Tuesday.
Receive a Freecycle email that offers me some plastic roofing for the coop. Make plan to pick up on Tuesday after farmer’s market venture.
Think about tonight’s dinner. Stale bread and stale cheese plus pizza sauce means pizza strata. Kids say yum.
Put honey-whole wheat bread ingredients into bread maker. When the dough is ready, dump onto counter, knead and put in pan to rise and bake. Turn on oven. Bake. Cool. Slice. Eat.
Nurse sore finger. Did I mention that I hurt my finger last night? I did? Well. It still hurts.
Water remaining veggies in garden (in small containers), potted plants on back patio, and then venture outside the yard to the fence plot. Nothing growing there just now, so why not plant some sunflowers? Poke about 20 holes and put seeds in. Spray with water. Go inside for cup of tea.
Think about how there is no tea cozy in the house. Decide again that I will make a tea cozy. Ponder for a few minutes how best to do this, while wrapping teapot in hand towel to keep it hot.
Spy the plastic bag “sack” that is supposed to corral all our plastic grocery bags. Realize I haven’t used this little random purchase in several years. We try not to use plastic bags. Recognize that there are cats and tea cups on the fabric print of this random object. Decide that this could become a useful tea cozy instead of a random unused plastic-bag caddy. Drink tea while picking the two seams out of this material. Set newly emancipated fabric aside to be ironed tomorrow and made into a tea cozy. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe soon after.
More tea. More finger-gazing. Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.
Notice when it startes to rain and congratulate self on good timing for laundry but not so good for watering garden.
Still to come: dinner, knitting, finger-coddling and general pottering about the house until bedtime.
Film at 11.
Okay Julia. The finger must have healed by now. I miss your blogging.
Debbie over in Michigan