Crumbling

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Z was out earlier mowing the lawn. He’s not done it in a bit because either the grass was wet, or he’s been in too much pain. The girls wanted to go out and play with their scooter while he was out front doing it, so I opened the door for them. The light coming through the rotted mortar caught my eye; this was my favourite picture of the ones I took.

I had a knock on the door this morning. It came right after I heard the post come through, so I figured the postie had a parcel for us that didn’t fit. Not so. It was the woman who used to live at the house behind ours inquiring about the previous resident. I had to tell her that Mrs. H had died month before last, and was buried a few weeks ago. I think it was a bit more awkward for her than me, but we made polite conversation for a minute before she moved on. From what I understand, they were friends, so I feel sort of sad that she had to found out about the passing from a stranger.

Today was the day the girls finally hit the point of grumbling about not going anywhere. It wasn’t much grumbling all told, but I knew it was inevitable. Z is going to see if his parents might be willing to take them for a bit tomorrow. We’ll see. I know that whatever the case, tomorrow is another day of trying to keep my nose to the grindstone and getting caught up on work. šŸ™‚

And now, putting my nose to the wool and getting a few more rows done, woo.

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