Women’s business is afoot. Becky has gone to the maternity hospital to be present when her sister gives birth. Meanwhile our own little links in the great chain of being sleep on, not knowing of the drama across town. They’ll wake up tomorrow to some interesting news I think – it’s been labour day in truth for at least one person in our wider family today.
For me it’s all been a bit slack though. This weekend was to have been a gardening weekend. I wanted to get the spuds in; but as usual got diverted onto another project after partially digging over the waist-high weed patch that is our vege garden. It seems I’m not always terribly stickable on actual physical work.
So I decided to build a wooden plate for our
giant rat feeder compost bin to sit on so that the rats could not burrow up into it. Which I did today, finally… but then in digging out the compost in the bin so I could then shift it, I put the shovel through the side, making a tidy rat-sized hole. Back to square one.
And the other minor tragedy is the starling stuck in the wall of our bedroom. Every time I walk into the room it starts up again, pathetically scratching and fluttering in a doomed attempt to escape. It’s been there for two days already and I wonder how long it will take to die. Not long, I hope.