If only that little figure would continue to move — when I first put it up, it would move, chasing the rock down the hill and then pushing it up again. Oh well. Maybe I need to download it again.
Anyway, ol' Sisyphus is at it again.
Yesterday morning, my office was neat, my house was still picked up. The whole joint has gone to hell in a handbasket.
First, the office. I had to move everything back in except the rug is still wet so it's draped over a stepladder and old lectern. (I will photograph it tomorrow.) Everything else is in neat piles but just that, piles.
The house is so-so because of pulling out everything for the talk on the Camino. The pack is now on the kitchen floor where I dumped it last night when I got the message about the ceiling leak. At least the cats know I am not leaving.
Even before I got out of bed this morning, I knew that I had one other task: the shed roof (which I can see from my bed) had finally dumped. That's about an hour plus of shovelling.
So, I put on my boots, but since it was 50 out (!), I didn't need a polartec: even a turtleneck and denim shirt were too much. No gloves either. An iPod helps the time go by quickly.
I had a spectator's gallery with Orange Boy downstairs in the kitchen window and Miss Funky Paws upstairs (red arrow).
Here's a close-up of her as she looked down at me, probbly wondering what the creature doing? That is a characteristic look.
Tomorrow is a new day. Let's see what adventures it brings (!).
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