Weather: good, thank goodness. For the moment. Summer, don’t fail me now!
Reason weather needed to be good: Lumber’s Island Labour day weekend party. Six Mile Lake island and island wanna be’s converged from far and wide. Nobody lost an eye, that I know of, even though we almost killed Lois with the nuts in the peach crumble. Cannot say the same thing about the butter tarts. They died extremely prematurely. But in a nice way, I’m sure. Except for the ones that died extremely, extremely, prematurely at the hands of Gus, unauthorized tart eater, who sampled them the day before the party.
Hootenanny at the fire: took place. Good time had until way past our bed time, by Lumber’s Island die-hards who do not comprehend the concept of bed time. If you think you have heard “Me and Bobby McGee” well sung before, you are mistaken. Same goes for “American Pie”, or would have gone if we had remembered to sing it.
Book report for school: almost done.
Water temperature: still swimmable. Sort of. If you take a big breath and go for it. I did.
Saturday Globe and Mail: hand delivered on my birthday. Having just returned from the land of no physical G&M (Atlantic Canada, I’m talking to you), this is not so small a mercy.
Weather: rain and wind. Wind and rain. Whitecaps. Swells you could surf on.
Summer: watch your step or you’ll be out of here.
Laundry: hanging on the line. May dry sometime this month.
Book report for school: almost done (task approaching infinity.)
Power still on: yup.
Cats: still pains in the ass.
Water pressure: none.
Weather: rain and wind. Wind and rain. Whitecaps. Swells you could surf. on.
Cure for water pressure: hit reset on the GFI plug in the pumphouse fifty feet down at the lake. Pumphouse has wasp nest in the corner, right above the offending plug, and a spider as big as a Hummer on the wall right beside plug.
Water pressure: none.
Shower: none. Perfectly good lake available, hovering at least five degrees above freezing.
Book report: done! And awesome. I think. Maybe. Never mind.
Cats: still pains in the ass.
Summer: still here for seventeen more days.