"Singer--Hmmph!"

Another successful trash pickup yesterday. I put out some more of the boxes of debris, filling them with drywall and wood and whatever I’d torn away from the walls in the other house. The trash men took it all. When I returned from my Thursday market, it was all gone. As for the market itself, it was a rather slow affair, helped greatly by my new helper from Hong Kong—a woman who worked terrifically hard and just intuitively knew what to do. She will come again next Thursday, and I will try it with just the two of us. This market seems to be in its waning days, no longer requiring a crew of three to keep things going; if I can get by with only two of us, so much the better.

The other night, as I was packing up the boxes of debris, my big grey cat ran inside the other house to see what was going on. I was just closing the place up, and didn’t see her dart inside. When she didn’t respond to my calls to come in for the night, I suspected what had happened. However, there was nothing much I could do about it; in typical fashion, I’d picked up the wrong set of keys on my way out, and locked the right ones inside the house. She would have to spend the night there. The hour was late, and I was in no mood to pry open a window, climb a ladder and get inside. I went to bed.

The next morning I tried the keys to the basement door, letting myself in down there. However, the door at the top of the basement steps was locked from the inside, so I had to resort to plan B, which involved a ladder and opening a window from outside. My cat could hear my efforts from inside the house, and meowed her approval. I finally got one of the side windows open and called to her to jump up to meet me. This she did, and I lifted her up and out of the window, depositing her on the driveway. She immediately went over to the front lawn, where she began chewing on some grass. When offered food, she didn’t seem particularly hungry. I know this house has a mouse problem, so maybe she’d found a meal on the run during her night in there.

Today I had a horrible breakfast at the local McDonald’s, ordering their hotcakes and sausage. For some reason I thought it would be good. The local citizenry, enjoying their matinal get-together in the comfortable and well-lit accommodations, voiced their opinions on the events of the day. This only added to the horribleness of it all.
On Pavarottit, who just died this week:

“Here’s a guy ain’t done nothin’ to contribute to life, to society, an’ now he’s gonna be immortal.”
The others nodded
“Singer, hmmph.”