Waking up I hear a choir of Angels singing just for me.
Oh wait,
That’s not Angels. That’s, that’s Cats!!
Ok. So I’m not dead. That’s nice to know.
They’re not exactly singing hymns, either, come to think of it.
Peppered with curse words as they are.
Hangry?
I rolled over and saw Dillon the villain sprinting past my window. On the chase.
This means Mr.W has returned from the lake house. He just went yesterday.
He must have a problem down there.
I really don’t wanna know what this is. It’s never pleasant.
One “I struck oil at the lake house” would be nice. Just one.
Not in my world.
I drag my body up and check my glucose. I’m ok.
Into the kitchen. No kids up yet. No Ivy yet.
I feed cats. Let dogs out. They join Dillon in the big chase for nuthin’.
And I sit down.
Peace?
I may have dozed off. I awoke to Mr.W. going on about a broken window and a tree limb in the Lake house. I said “Wut!?”
He asks haven’t I been listening. No, no I wasn’t. I was asleep, I think.
He asks where Son-of-a-wrek is. I told him, “I reckon he’s in his bed at home”
I heard: “Get him here!”
Rude?
I sent a text.
By now kids are up wanting food. Ivy came in and read my CGM. I told the boys to wake their Mom and tell her they and Pop-pop want breakfast.
Ivy hands me a protein drink and asks what going on.
Nosy?
So, the story is the ice storm broke a tree at the lake. Big limb hit the side of the house and broke a window. It caused all manner of damage. The tree was not Mr.Ws. But, he proceeded to cut it anyway. The landowner is not amused. It’s not that the tree was valuable, but it was his. He insisted he should’ve been called. Mr.W told him he didn’t even know who he was. Never seen him there. Couldn’t call.
And explained he had to cut to move the limb from inside his camp. He thinks he placated the landowner.
Personally, I expect a criminal charges and a trial, but I’m a defeatist in these matters.
Prison?
Son-of-a-wrek gets here before food is cooked. He’s amazing that way.
They set off to board up the camp and hide from the long arm of the law. I’m sure fishing will happen.
Dillon has to go as well. He loves it, so he’s happy. House dogs are downhearted.
Over and done?
Doubt it.