But this morning when we opened the barn door, after the large red dog dashed out, there were 4 wee kittens and 2 big kittens, all demanding food immediately. I�m not saying Zippy took his bottle very successfully, but he did lick a bit of wet food off my fingers before curling up in a ball in the palm of my hand.
So I take it back. I don�t mind driving 25 miles home to care for them, only to come back to town late tonight to see Dale Watson.
I have malice toward none. I signed my lease and mailed my deposit today, so the digs are officially mine. I have nice mom �n pop landlords, and I can only trust they�ll find someone nifty to move into the phat first floor of the marvelous house at a fabulously cheap price. Ghouls included, they say.
The good thing about moving once in 4 years is that every friend under the sun has popped up with offers to assist with the move. But Miss P turns 35 8/2 and Tams is 30 on 8/9, so the Saturdays are a concern. However, one must move.
One must also call the boys who live there now and ask the dumb questions I missed. Details like color of rooms, existence of a microwave or bathroom cabinets, etc. Sigh.
Don�t blow yourselves up, all. We at flashingreds do not endorse illegal fireworks. Or abuse of Lee Greenwood. We do endorse barbecues, homemade cherry and blueberry pies, and crowd avoidance.