Silence

Last Sunday, Mrs. D stepped out and was struck mute by a bunch of zombies who menaced her!

Goodness. It was frightening, but appearances can be deceiving and the zombies were actually friendly - it's just that their menacing growls weren't all that different from their welcome growls. Zombies you know.



Then one week passed.

And Mrs. D recovered, stepped out of her shoebox and thought to herself, today I shall buy flowers but not just any flowers but flowers that can withstand heat hot sun and bright bright bright light and she was led into the idea of peat bogs for and pitcher plants for the shoebox patio. Mrs. D was told that apparently all you need is a water tight container peat moss and water - sans chlorine of course - and bob's your uncle. That apparently is the plan for next year - that  and some star gazer lilies and maybe Casablanca too. Mrs. D thinks that this summer is going to be extra fleeting. Here she is in July and falling into the same holes as last year, and quite likely next year. What will it take for Mrs. D to step out and for onceor maybe forever to not thin that she'll go get some flowers and in fact tell hte flowers to go to hell and just sit and receive flowers in the comfort of her home. Would that be the truth then Mrs. D would have much less weary feet. Perhaps the feet are weary because of hte high-stepping she had to do over roots, mud, rivulets, lakes and rocks while up at a local mountain race which made her calves unhappy. The calves were treated with water and electrolytes and the pain was alleviated somewhat by a day of lounging in the sun, then in the starlight and a dinner of steak and asparagus so as to replenish the important and necessary elements and minerals lost on the mountain.

Oh me oh my. Mrs. D realises that there's much that needs sorting through in the lumber room. Much must be thrown out. THROWN. OUT. There's only so much rubbish that one can store in the name of recycling or environmental awareness and Mrs. has had enough. She feels that it's her time to pollute and not worry about those around her. Why? After all all the love in the world for the earth isn't going to save dolphins, turtles or even the poor plankton. No more exfoliating with plastic beads. Yes, Mrs. is planning her next crisis of faith already. Mocking might help. Who knows. To start with, a big plastic container will be thrown out. Yes. Rubbish it. And then some careful sorting through clothes, and even more careful sorting through the lumber room. There are things there that may seem like they deserve to be thrown out but these tend to fall into the category of once thrown out, immediately needed which is particularly irritating. So there you go. There will be yet more conundrums and all the while, there's more spending and purchasing to replace all that was thrown out. Patience and steadfast determination will yet win the day of the throw out so Mrs. D have faith and ignore the impending crisis.

Now to go work on some first author manuscripts.

Ta-ta.