Mid-August: where did the time go? Sigh. It drowned, I think.

Meg and Tim will be heading home, I'm told, this morning. He was set free from Tufts clutches late yesterday; it turns out that what happened was likely his body's response to injury is now a fever, since he's immunosuppressed. Sounds like an interesting medical thesis research paper to me. At any rate, we had another sleepover last night, and Holly slid off the air mattress around 11:30pm. Poor bean. She is fine, but her yawp impelled me down the stairs to check on her. Geoff heard her, but since he can't get up and going too quickly due to being crutches-dependent, I beat him to it. 

At any rate, she was already back on the bed and ready to settle. She slept til 6:45am. I, on the other hand, was awoken by the next door neighbor tossing trash bags full of aluminum cans into the back of his truck at 4:21am. Sigh. The penalty for sleeping with the window open instead of using the A/C. 

Today, we will bake banana bread, and I'll manage some house chores and laundry. I will deflate (almost typed defeat-- seems appropos) the enormous air mattress later. Holly wants me to "keep it good as snoo" for a while, but I want to reclaim the living room and put the furniture back. We'll likely compromise.

The week is already starting up apace, and my day-book has un-fun things noted all throughout the next two weeks. I hope the weather warms up a lot, so we can at least get in the pool a few more times. I'd like to figure out a special dinner for Thursday (it's our anniversary), but who knows? After G goes for another check-up, we'll have more information about his healing process. All the "fun" plans have had to be scrapped or shelved for yet another year-- I swear, I want so badly to go to the beach, the theatre, a ball game. But prudence, patience, and so on, right? Maybe we'll get to Manchester before November to see the seascapes exhibit at the Currier. Life will go on if we don't, but sheesh. It keeps going, and there's got to be a little sweetness sometime... I hope. 

Speaking of sweetness, the pears are not quite ready to pick, but when they are, I will have a monster job ahead of me. I will need help picking, for sure-- and there's little chance the pears at the top will be picked, because those trees are 30-40 feet tall. But there are literally thousands to pick. Lucky for us, the apple trees are semi-dwarf (so am I, apparently). The garden is producing more tomatoes than I can realistically eat, but no zukes. And there's no evidence of hard-shell squash, though the plants have stretched out and have been blooming like crazy. And that patch is next to the bees! I think it's the rain. All the chances of pollination have been washed away, I suspect. I dunno. It's still August, but there's little hope for pumpkins and butternut if they have not begun yet. 

At any rate, here we are, another week that marches toward the end of summer. It sounds petulant, but I really would like a do-over. Or at least a few warm, dry days.

C