March 27, 2014
Close to Nowhere
Mondays are not bad days usually. Oh sure, we have to go back to work after the weekend, but be honest — aren’t you ready to go to work and rest after a wild weekend?
For some unknown reason, Tuesdays have always been the worst day of the week for me.
This Tuesday started out just like I expect Tuesdays to start — really yucky.
I’m still itching from the stay in the hospital last year, so as usual, I was up way earlier than I wanted to be.
If I’m up, the inside dogs are up. I don’t think the outside dogs ever sleep. Somehow, they always meet us at the door as I’m escorting the inside dogs out for their morning routine.
There were no outside dogs on the front porch this Tuesday morning. There was a nice present waiting for me there though.
My cats love to leave me presents on the back deck, where I feed them. Some mornings there are three or four mice or other rodents of some sort or the other.
I always politely thank the cats — they expect it — and then bribe my youngest granddaughter to take them away.
I don’t think I could have bribed her this morning. I have no idea if the cats left it or maybe the dogs for some unknown reason, but there was a large sort of bird right smack in front of the door. In pieces. Gory pieces.
Both granddaughters had left for school. Daughter had gone to work. Pop and son Kris were sound asleep. That left me for the clean-up job.
I earnestly thought about pretending I didn’t see “it” and letting the girls get whatever was left when they got home.
I was afraid that the dogs or the cats would make a bigger mess than was already there, so I bit the bullet.
After putting on long Playtex rubber gloves, I gathered up several plastic bags, lining up about three or four layers and opened the front door, hoping the “present” would be gone.
Still there. I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes and using the bags to close around the poor dead thing, I scooped it up and headed straight for the outside trash can.
I was not a happy camper, but, I thought, that would be the worst thing that would happen all day.
• If you’ve driven up or down Hwy. 7 between Holly Springs and Oxford, you know it’s a race track.
Tuesday morning three cars either passed me or were passing someone in the other lane and ran me off the road.
One car missed the side of my car by inches trying to pull back in before he got smashed.
I miss the highway patrol guys. I hope they can come back before I get smashed.
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