Well, poop. The warm weather caught up to us. The 14-day forecast is hot all the way through. And here we haven't prepared the whole house fan for the season yet. I'm home alone for one more night, so maybe (maybe) by Sunday morning the man will be willing to climb up into the attic and set us up.
It was supposed to be a nice quiet few days while the man was up at his cabin for the first multiple overnights trip. He took the two older dogs with him, and loaded up food and supplies for the first half of the build season. For the most part, I'm enjoying the stillness, or as still as it can be with a giant puppy woofing at the back door, because she just knows the west side neighbors have their grandkids playing in their yard. But then I took two solo babysitting assignments, one at her place, and one at mine. I had to burn energy to clean the floor, the whole floor, so she wasn't tromping through the dried mud that Saoirse brings in every day. I was already running on fumes when she arrived this afternoon. She wasn't difficult, until the very end, when she and I both ran out of energy. Mine manifested as listlessness. Hers as wiggling and whining. But boy, did she light up when she saw her parents walk up to take her home.
I tested that baby out, to see whether she will survive trips to the homeland (the American south). For dinner I made homemade mac and cheese and fried okra. She did okay with my mac and cheese. It's made with rice pasta and arrowroot thickener in the cheese sauce, so I didn't expect her to take to it immediately. But she thought that fried okra (not coated at all) was pretty special. She passed my test. This baby is a keeper.
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