The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

Yesterday, I asked. Is it Fall? The answer this morning is yes. It’s 62, and I need to think about shelter for the cats. We’re down to two, and one of them is new. A tom. He’s getting used to the routine. He waits at the door for breakfast, shows up for dinner, and hangs on the porch during the day. I’ll bring down crates and bedding this afternoon and set them up on the south porch. No need for the heat lamps, but a warm spot to cuddle is good. 62 is probably chilly, even for a cat.

Thank you, Polo. Your tropical moisture was most welcome. I logged close to four inches at my house. Best of all it came down at a relatively steady pace over several days. So, there were no flash floods to speak of. The Llano River puffed up but the flood control lakes controlled the flood, and the water made its way to the sea without incident. The rain made a local music festival a muddy mess, but that was the extent of the generated news.

Big hand to the garden spider at the east end of the south porch. She has three egg sacks up. The third went up last night. I have no idea where the mates are coming from, but they obviously know she’s there. And she picked a pretty good spot for the sacks. They’re sheltered from the north wind, up out of the weather, and I’m not such a clean freak, that they’ll have to come down. They’ll empty in the spring. So, all in good time.

Got sloppy this morning. I need to tighten up my routine. I’ve been up ninety minutes and I’m just now sitting down to write. In my defense, I had to chase a raccoon away from the cat’s breakfast dishes. That was out of the ordinary. Usually, they come at night. Maybe the rain is changing their habits. Of course, I also piddled around with the crossword puzzles, took my meds, fixed my coffee, and wandered outside for a bit. So, it might just be a sign of my rewired brain brought on by too many short form videos.

My wounds from a visit to my dermatologist are healing nicely. Most were simply freezes. One was an actual cut. She dug for a sample. It came back benign, an age spot or seborrheic keratosis which Siri transcribed as “February caratosis (sic)”. Either way all is good and my skin is busy regrowing; I’ll go back in a year to make sure it’s till behaving itself.

The air is unsettled this morning. Pacific moisture, the remnants of Hurricane Polo, is paying a visit. There’s also a slow-moving cold front dropping temperatures and playing footsie with the tropical moisture. We’re in for a fun few days of wet cool weather. That’s fine by me. I have nowhere to go, and I want to dig, so the rain will make it easier. I could have soaked the ground with a hose, but I thought I’d wait for the rain. Lazy?

It took some effort, but I broke away from doomscrolling and picked up a book yesterday. I’d already made a start but stopped for some reason. Now I’m back and in the story. But my concentration has weakened, and the phone always beckons. I may have to start deleting apps, although that feels a tad extreme. After all, I’m an adult with a brain, so I should be able to self-direct.

This is closer to the old days. An early morning start, when the day is dark and nothing revealed. There’s a cool breeze and I can make out the garden spider hanging in its web. The little wren is safe in its nook in the porch post. Mama cat is fed, and the new tomcat ran off when a sound spooked it. Patience will win the day, of course, but that’s a story only time will tell.