The morning is perfect. It is still a bit chilly from last night, but the sun is so bright the day is quickly warming. It will be in the low 70’s today and the high 50’s tonight. I’m thinking that’s ideal.

My cleaning frenzy continues. Yesterday it was upstairs in the cat’ room and the bathroom. I even washed both floors. The kitchen floor no longer has a road-mark of paws. The hall is immaculate at least for a day. As for today, the den needs my attention. It is the room where we all hang out and the dog hair holds sway.

My fridge has been wonky. The ice maker stopped working. I was okay with that and bought ice until yesterday when I woke up to a fridge where everything was frozen. The small consolation was the ice maker worked. Luckily, the repairman came this morning. All is right with my world.

When I was a kid, everything was easy. My only responsibilities were school every day and wearing clean underwear when I went outside so I wouldn’t embarrass my mother in case I was in an accident. I liked school. As for clean underwear, it miraculously appeared in my bureau drawer every day. I thought it a bit like the elves and the shoemaker; however, because I was never in an accident, I did think all that clean underwear sort of went to waste.

When I was in Ghana, I appreciated my mother and the miracle of daily clean underwear. I had to wash mine in a bucket. Though I became proficient at washing my clothes in said bucket, it was not a talent I perpetuated, but I suppose it is like riding a bicycle. You never forget how to do it, and I do have a metal bucket just in case.

I always had to take cold showers in Ghana. Hot water was a luxury, but I became proficient at washing my hair in the warm water which first came out of the shower head. The pipes had been warmed by the sun. During the dry season, the water was often turned off. I had three or so buckets which were kept filled and lined up against the shower walls. I took bucket baths when there was no shower water. The technique was easy. First my hair then the rest of my body. The last step was dumping the water over my head. It was wonderfully refreshing. It is also a talent I still have should it be needed.

The morning is humid, damp and dark. It rained earlier but not so much. A slight breeze stirs only the leaves at the ends of the branches. I’m tempted to put the screen in the front door but not yet the back door. That has to stay open for the dogs, and it still gets cold at night. Yesterday I went out for a time. Nala enjoyed herself. She surfed the baskets under the table and pulled out the strangest things like coasters, bottles and a couple of books. They were strewn all over. Not satisfied with one floor, Nala went upstairs to my bedroom. Luckily, the only things she found were grocery bags. They were in pieces all over the floor.

Last night wasn’t great for sleeping. The room was hot so I turned on the window air in my bedroom. Nala spread out and took my blankets with her. I got cold. Henry joined us, and I had no room. Usually they stay on their side, and I stay on mine, but not last night. Both sides were their sides. I had to fight for every inch.

When I was a kid, Duke, our boxer, wasn’t allowed on furniture. At night he sneaked on the couch to sleep but was never there when we came down the stairs in the morning. He was too smart to get caught. When Duke was young, he jumped out the window in Reading Square. My father stopped the car in the middle of the road and gave chase. Duke was caught. The other Duke story I remember was when we were visiting my aunt the nun. Duke was left in the car. He got bored. When we got back, strings of ceiling material hung down in front of the windows. Duke had chewed all along the from window to window. My father went crazy. I don’t remember what happened next. I think I erased it from my memory.

I don’t think my mother ever worried when we were gone all day. We’d pack our own lunches and take off for the whole day. Sometimes we walked. Other times we rode our bikes. We rode to East Boston once. That was the furthest we ever went. My mother was not happy, an understatement. I think the ride along the Revere highway scared her the most. We weren’t scared at all. There were sidewalks and lots of lights. We rode passed the dinosaur statue at the miniature golf course, the dog track, the tankers lined up at the oil terminal and the giant holy lady statue on the hill. We had taken that route more times than I can remember on the way to our grandparents’ house. It was as familiar as the streets in our town. My brother and I thought it was an adventure.