There were several reasons I had to leave Lake Ottawa and come home to Seymour today.
I am in the process of moving my accounts from one bank to another. That is confusing enough, but I also have to arrange to have bills paid automatically from the new account. Each bill has an entire new system to figure out.
I have to edit eight short stories that I originally posted at Black Coffee Fiction for a collection Wade Peterson and I are putting together. I'm organizing two new storytelling tours, one to Illinois in October and another to the South in February. There's the mail to go through. Harvest time is here, with the garden's produce coming along.
None of this can be done from a national forest campground.
But the most pressing problem is this one:
Rascal has been living here in Mathom House since September 9, 2011 when his previous owner dropped him off. As Gary pointed out, I should have known the little guy was a terrorist from the get go. He was a devil when it came to dragging half dead little chipmunks and baby bunnies into this house. He has never believed any human should sleep late in the morning. He used to climb to the top of the headboard of my bed and leap upon my recumbent form which was a wake up call I could live without.
He isn't the worst pet I've ever had, that honor went to Mean Old Ms. Baby Doll who hated everyone except Chris, and especially loathed Gary. He wasn't that best, that was Jocasta, the cat who helped raise Chris, watching over him in his crib and coming to get me whenever he woke up.
However, once I take in an animal, good or bad, it is an adoption and I never back out on the relationship. Rascal stayed.
Now he is nineteen years old with not so many years left. He doesn't like being alone in the house, yet doesn't want any other cat around for company. More than anything, he likes having me here. He likes me feeding him, changing his litter, and petting him and letting him rest on my lap when his bones ache.
Darn that cat, I feel guilty when I go off on one of my trips. So here I am, away from the forest I love and once he got his food, his clean litter and a little petting, he went off to sleep and has ignored me ever since.
***
Wade Peterson finished his Corncob and Michael today at Black Coffee Fiction http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com I wondered how he was going to find the end to that one!
My cousin Charles and Sean and Chris are still working their way along the Pacific Crest, but the National Forest Service is re-routing hikers because of forest fires. They still feel lucky however, because some of the people following them seem to be permanently stuck back in California. http://3gaycaballeros.blogspot.com
I am in the process of moving my accounts from one bank to another. That is confusing enough, but I also have to arrange to have bills paid automatically from the new account. Each bill has an entire new system to figure out.
I have to edit eight short stories that I originally posted at Black Coffee Fiction for a collection Wade Peterson and I are putting together. I'm organizing two new storytelling tours, one to Illinois in October and another to the South in February. There's the mail to go through. Harvest time is here, with the garden's produce coming along.
None of this can be done from a national forest campground.
But the most pressing problem is this one:
He isn't the worst pet I've ever had, that honor went to Mean Old Ms. Baby Doll who hated everyone except Chris, and especially loathed Gary. He wasn't that best, that was Jocasta, the cat who helped raise Chris, watching over him in his crib and coming to get me whenever he woke up.
However, once I take in an animal, good or bad, it is an adoption and I never back out on the relationship. Rascal stayed.
Now he is nineteen years old with not so many years left. He doesn't like being alone in the house, yet doesn't want any other cat around for company. More than anything, he likes having me here. He likes me feeding him, changing his litter, and petting him and letting him rest on my lap when his bones ache.
Darn that cat, I feel guilty when I go off on one of my trips. So here I am, away from the forest I love and once he got his food, his clean litter and a little petting, he went off to sleep and has ignored me ever since.
***
Wade Peterson finished his Corncob and Michael today at Black Coffee Fiction http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com I wondered how he was going to find the end to that one!
My cousin Charles and Sean and Chris are still working their way along the Pacific Crest, but the National Forest Service is re-routing hikers because of forest fires. They still feel lucky however, because some of the people following them seem to be permanently stuck back in California. http://3gaycaballeros.blogspot.com
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