The weather is a leftover from last night’s rain, cloudy, damp and only 59°. The weather, though, says sun and a high of 70°. Of course it will be 70°. I put in the storm doors!

This week I have a few errands and appointments, but my dance card is mostly uke heavy with my practice and lesson and three concerts. I think I need to rest. I’m thinking a nap or two will be in order.

Yesterday, my sloth was seen leaving my house, small suitcase in hand and muttering to himself. I had disappointed my dear friend who had to witness the third day of my unexplained energy and the completion of long delayed tasks. It was the worst day for my sloth to watch. Let me explain. First, I hauled down a large box from Jack’s room. It was heavy with used litter and trash. I brought it to the car. Next I brought up the storm doors from the cellar, one at a time. I washed them and then lifted them into the doors. That was the hardest. They were so heavy I had to use my knees, my hands and my head. My knees held them half way up the door until I could lift them into the door frame, my hands held them, and my head kept the doors from falling as I turned the holding screws. You’d think I was done, but I am not. I emptied the Chewy box and had to slide the cases of canned dogfood across the floor as they were too heavy to lift. Next, I went to the dump with a filled trunk. I dragged and tossed the bags into the bins. Done? Nope! I drove down cape to Chatham and brought my laundry to the laundromat. By the time I was finished my laborious tasks, it was too late to write Coffee.

When I was younger, I did all my house chores myself. I used to lug in 50 pounds of cat litter from the car. I’d toss the bag over my shoulder and carry it upstairs. I’d fill my trash bags as much as I could then I’d take my trash to the car then to the dump every week. I’d even bring up both storms at the same time. That, however, was a long time ago.

I still think I can do the things I used to do. I even try and sometimes, like recently, even, with great difficulty, accomplish all my tasks, but I am being stubborn, not asking for help or maybe just not acknowledging the passage of time. I still have a lot to learn.

The sun is squint your eyes bright and is surrounded by the bluest sky. Little is moving. It is 65°. The day is quiet which surprises me for a Saturday. It is the perfect day to hunt for stolen objects in the yard. Another mouse trap has disappeared. It was baited with peanut butter, and I thought I hid it well, but nothing stays hidden from the intrepid Nala. I swear she’d find El Dorado.

When I was a kid, the future was only a few days away except for the countdown events like Halloween and Christmas. I never planned the weekends except on those winter days when I’d go to the movies. My theater showed a newsreel and a cartoon first. The movies were never first run. I saw The Wizard of Oz there in the late 1950’s. When it turned to color over the rainbow, there was a collective gasp from the audience as if we were watching something magical. The theater was always noisy, and we readily booed and cheered. Candy often flew through the air though Al, the owner, was vigilant. He was an aisle patroller.

I remember the back row of that theater. High school couples sat there. They were kissing which I found both disgusting and mystifying. I didn’t realize until much later they were young teens who didn’t drive and needed their own sort of lover’s lane, but a Saturday matinee seemed a strange choice.

My Girl Scout troop sponsored a nighttime fundraising movie event. We served as hostesses and wore our uniforms which were green skirts, white blouses, tams and our badge sashes. I remember how excited I was. Looking back I didn’t realize that it was a poor movie choice, one which didn’t bring in the crowds, Our Lady of Fatima. If she had been chased by a slasher, it would have been far more popular though probably religiously offensive, but I have been to Fatima. The streets surrounding the shrine are filled with kiosks and shops selling offensive but oddly appealing religious souvenirs. If I didn’t have to haul it in my suitcase for the rest of the holiday, I would have bought the ceramic statue of Mary on a hill surrounded by blinking colored lights. I still regret leaving it on the shelf.

I have a few errands today including the dump. I have been hauling bags down from upstairs one step at a time because they are heavy with used litter. They just need to be hauled or rather dragged to the car. Gone are the days of carrying two bags at a time to the trunk. I miss those days.