Sunday, May 6, 2012

A Perfect Spring Day

If your definition of one is dreary, rainy & GREEN, it is.  See?  See the pretty raindrops in the birdbath?  My definition might lean that way, at least today since I want to spend the day evicting Old Cesspool from the bathroom, and then sitting and crafting on the couch until time for my 2-weeks-delayed haircut.  (It's hard to believe that it's been two weeks already since we drove home from visiting DD & DIL2 but it has.)  I was going to tackle the bathroom while Durwood napped this morning but then I realized that I'd be clonking around in the shower which shares a wall with his napping spot so I'd risk waking him.  I'm not the quietest of cleaners... in fact, I don't do much quietly.  It surely won't take me 3 hours to clean the bathroom, it's not that big a room, and it isn't that dirty, but I do want to use the Mr. Clean Magic Reach in the shower stall and that makes noise, or rather, I make noise with it.  But now it's nearly noon and that's when Durwood wanted to be awakened so instead of going in and gently shaking him saying, "Honey, it's noon" or awakening him in a more friendly fashion, I could just get started cleaning and let the dulcet tones of aluminum on fiberglass wake him up.  Hmm, which to do?  (BTW, remind me next time I finish my one cup of morning caffeinated coffee that I should NOT have even another half-cup.  Even if Durwood's made a fresh pot and it's aroma is enticing.  Right now I feel the drug coursing through my veins and my jaw is tightening into an over-caffeinated clench as we speak.  Grrr.)

May 6--Central Anatolia, Seated Goddess with a Child.  The glitter kept Mariel in the pit until after dark.  All day there were minute flicks of gold in the dirt she was painstakingly removing from her assigned section of the grid.  It got cold when the sun when down here on the edge of the Turkish desert but she shrugged into her denim jacket and kept working toward the source of that tantalizing gleam.  She shifted to rest on her hip and stretch out her legs.  They were cramped and nearly numb from being sat on for most of the day.  Once Harriet, who was working a meter away in the next grid square, left for supper she could make herself comfortable without getting snarled at by the petite blond.  Harriet had found a breastplate with glass beads in it a few days ago.  She had rubbed herself all over Dr. O'Neill when he bent down to examine her find in situ.  That Harriet, she'd stop at nothing to get ahead.  Just when Mariel was about ready to pack it in for the night, her trowel hit metal.  She brushed awaay the sandy soil and a calm golden face glinting in the lantern light gazed up at her.

Dun-dun-duuuun.  Oh, I can tell that hussy Harriet's just waiting in the shadows trying to figure out a way to either discredit or remove Mariel.  Guess we'll have to wait and see what happens tonight.  Good thing the weekend can generate a two-part story, eh?  Ah, the sleepyhead's up; time to attack the bathroom.  Don't want Old Cesspool's hairy hands grabbing our guests' ankles when they sit on "the throne," do we?

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