Today was the first time I didn't wake up before my alarm here at the cabin . . . maybe ever. Now, technically, I did wake up around three-thirty to go to the bathroom (and turn out the reading light I'd had on, trying to finish the library book that was due and I haven't returned yet), but I don't usually count that. I guess it's a sign of getting older that I now wake up in the middle of the night to pee about five times a week. But I actually enjoy it, because I'll look at the clock--usually it's between five and six--and know that I can go back to sleep, and that pleases me greatly.
There was another ground squirrel in the big trap when I got here yesterday (the other traps were empty), and it was still alive and energetic. I have three options when I find them in there: I can shoot them (what my brother does), I can leave them in there to die, or I can let them go. And don't tell my brother, but I'm never gonna shoot them, and four times now, I have let the rodents go.
He would be upset by this, because there was lots of fresh poop and pee on the deck this trip (I can't just guess it was build-up over the two weeks I hadn't been here, because he comes on Saturdays, and I'm sure he would sweep it off the deck if he saw it, so my guess is, it was pretty fresh). But what I have done lately, is grab the trap, take it up to the lake with me when I go to sing or take pictures or watch a YouTube video (yeah, that has become my sad tradition of late, so I'm really no better than Pol Pot or Pinochet*). In the past, I have taken the trap in the car with me, but they tend to smell pretty strong, so this time, I put it on the trunk, in between the window and the spoiler, watching to make sure it didn't slide off.
So, when I had managed to turn around and leave, and made my way to the lakeside, the trap did slide a little, though, and scratched the paint back there, so maybe my brother was right once again. I let the critter go, and brought the trap (it's the biggest one, so it barely fit on my front seat) back here. I didn't reset it.
But it doesn't matter, I awoke this morning and found a second ground squirrel in a trap, this one rattling and squeaking, having just found itself with no way out.**
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In July: 2389
I recorded my little sketch, and it just doesn't work with me doing both parts. I wrote it for Renee Chambliss (the waitress's name is Renee, unsubtle that), and it seems stupid, hearing me call myself ma'am and miss (which, now that I look at it, are not all that interchangeable. Hmm). So, I'll see if she'll do the part. I'm sure she'll agree, but I feel like I have a brother-in-law who's a doctor, and I'm always bugging him to look at my tonsils or moles or bunions.
I edited a bit of the audio of my story "Meet the New Clerk, Same As The Old Clerk," just so I could free up some space on my recorder (it's full again), and came across the line "Meeshelle sometimes heard disembodied voices when she used the telephone." And that gave me pause. Voices on the telephone are always without body, aren't they?
Push-ups Today: 50
Push-ups In July: 2388
As is my tradition, I listened to Marshal Latham's podcast while I made sandwiches, and found myself commenting and interjecting as I always do, even though he is a recording and I am (sort of) real life.
I grabbed an anthology book I got at a thrift shop years ago that I always keep in my suitcase (in case of, you know, being stranded somewhere or boredom or hiding from natives or something), and read through a couple of old stories (presumably in the public domain), hoping to find one I could use in my next episode, but neither story was for me. One had an ending so telegraphed that I was actually expecting there to be a twist there, but nope, it was exactly what you thought it was. The other was super British, and all the interesting bits happen off-camera.
I sat down and recorded some podcast for use in the next episode, but it was meandering and long and not at all what I had intended, so I will have to rethink (yet again).
I didn't want to leave, but it started sprinkling rain around seven o'clock, and I felt like I ought to leave if it was going to rain harder. And it did rain harder, so hard, there was crazy flooding. During my drive, the highway got flooded out, with three or four inches of brown water running from the mountains and across the road (I slowed down to about fifteen miles an hour to go through it, but there was another car on the side of the road that had gone through it too fast and soaked their engine).
I have mentioned the ghost town that lies underwater you have to drive through to get to the cabin. Well, the water had risen so high there that it too was crossing from the ponds that were once people's yards, and onto the road. There were police cars out to help people who got stuck or stranded.
And when I got back to town, I learned that my brother's street was so flooded that children were using inner tubes and canoes to go up and down the block. None entered his house, though (he doesn't have a basement, for some reason, though most houses here do).
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| He took this photo from his front yard. |
Now I'm home. I'm too tired and too stupid to do any writing today. And yet, every day for a year and a half I have done what I could, and I'm too stubborn to go to sleep without writing. Feeling pretty angry at myself now, though.
Alright, I'll do SOMETHING. Happy now?
Words Today: 753
Words In July: 20,772
*I originally wrote Hitler here, but hey, he gets referenced a lot--let's let other dictators get some time in the sun.
**Well, as I got ready to leave, I discovered it wasn't a squirrel at all, but something much cooler--a weasel. It seemed noticeably smarter than the squirrels do, but did screech rather startlingly when I got close to it.
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