We’d just finished our Labor Day picnic dinner of ham sandwiches in the living room. The front door was open and the air was getting cool. I decided to change my clothes, since I was still wearing the same shorts and aloha shirt I’d put on to do a quick mile and a half walk earlier. As I stood there in my underwear, I realized I might as well just grab my fleece bathrobe instead. When I came out of the bedroom, I saw this amazing light at the top of the hill. A minute later I was two hundred yards from the house, in my bathrobe, taking this picture, and aren’t I glad I did.
If we find a house to buy in town, that’ll never happen again. On the other hand, if we don’t get the hell out of here soon, the next thing you know I’ll be jumping off the gorge bridge, and all the way down I’ll be thinking, geez, why didn’t we just rent a fucking condo? Meanwhile, just before our picnic in the living room, I found another dead pack rat in the trap behind the washing machine. That makes the fourth one in ten days. They steal cat food from the dish on the floor and stash it away wherever they can. This happens in broad daylight. I’ve found kibble in my pants, the washing machine, and glasses on the kitchen shelves. (Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.) At least we don’t have bears. We used to, but the pack rats scared them off.