It is a surreal feeling, to know that all this space is ours to inhabit, knowing how many people are confined to small apartments, even to cruise ship berths akkkkk! afraid to leave for the contagion all around. Knowing this, and empathizing with people all around the globe, makes for a very unsettled state of mind, an agitation that never leaves you. I can feel the disturbance in the force. I can feel the panic, the unhappiness, the deprivation, the fear. It's a drumbeat under every breath we draw.
That makes trying to keep an active, intelligent, 15-week-old (as of today!) Decker rat terrier pup exercised and entertained, especially when it is raining outside and nothing I have to protect her splint from getting wet and dirty that lasts longer than a minute, particularly exhausting. She is understandably needy, and sometimes I have nothing left to give. Today she's spent waaaay too much time locked in the laundry room, first while I was gone to work (Brian was home but otherwise occupied), then after I got home with a headache and a short fuse (to keep her from igniting said fuse).
This (mood), too, shall pass. Yesterday was actually great. We expected rain, but got a one-day break. Rick and I took Poppy for a walk while Brian slept in; her joy in the little journey was infectious. She desperately wanted to play with the "neighbor boy" on the way home, but we didn't want another broken splint so had to disappoint her. (When we got back, we changed her bandaging.)
I turned Stella out to play, and got some great photos when Brian decided to interact with her.
Then I rode Lance up the hill. There were lots of blooming things to see, and a great view from the top.
When I got back, Brian helped me grade the arena, which it's needed for a very long time. But that means not using it until the rain stops and it dries out some, or it will be wasted effort.
Other accomplishments: Rick got all the caneberries and grapevines in our garden pruned, Brian did a little more weeding, I did laundry and made bread, brownies and supper.
So good riddance to today and here's to tomorrow at . . .