WHILE WE’VE taken the Swedish approach to the Plague Year, that still leaves us at home more than before March, but less than the month or so in the middle. Free time means space and life to fill, and I’m doing that.
I’ve decided to make a cactus zone where I recently removed the profusion of mother-in-law plants. There were already some cacti amid the mess, like those tall mothers, but I’ve been adding others, smaller plants that resided in pots but now will live free.
This morning found me driving down the mountainside alone to shop in the nearby capital city. I was riding solo because Costco won’t let more than one person in the store per membership, so my child bride was left behind, which probably pleased her just fine and dandy due to the early hour.
However, just as I was jumping into the Honda at 8:45, I noticed a tire was very low on air, so I drove to a tire-repair place just up the way where the guy found not one but two nails piercing the rubber. That put me behind schedule on the shopping trip.
Just a bit, 45 minutes. Set me back just over three bucks too.
The afternoon presented opportunities to both kill time and be useful, a lovely combination. I painted a scraped area on the side of the house with Seacoast Red. I changed the water in the ceramic birdbath. Earlier, I made spaghetti topped off with bottled tomato sauce, canned tuna and a bit of sausage from San Antonio.
I responded to some people who had left comments here, which is always fun, plus it gave me another chance to sing the praises of Donald Trump. I wish we had such a fine man in the president’s chair in Mexico instead of the megalomaniac we do have.
We hung up king sheets on the clothesline because we don’t own a dryer. I checked the water in the underground cistern. The incoming water has been cut off a week — my doing — because the cistern is due its annual cleaning. It’s about half empty today. It holds 900 liters. Likely be empty in another week. Then we must ladder down and do the work ourselves. We could hire someone, but we never have.
I got a crick in my back climbing out last year, so it may be time for me to retire from underground cistern maintenance. I prefer to see myself as eternally 35.
There’s always something to do at home during the Plague Year even if you’ve embraced the carefree Swedish System. We dined in a new restaurant yesterday, not one we’ll likely return to. I think it’s where I got the second nail in the tire.
Plus, the pastrami was dry.
And the days pass.