The Friday Burrito

The seasonal winter rains have started in Southern California. Perfect timing because I didn’t want to water our lawn, nor did I fancy helping my octogenarian neighbor by watering at her request the 70 or so potted plants in her backyard. Her husband passed away last year, she accidentally broke her wrist recently, and she needs help from her family and neighbors to get by. The rainfall removed at least one weekly chore from my list. When you retire the chore list expands exponentially. Barely
any time left to laze about and stare into space.

Another time sink is our eldest dog, Halley. She’s getting to that point where her spirit remains upbeat, but her body is failing. She can’t use her back legs or get up on her own. Several times through the night I awaken to her big-dog woof, straddle a makeshift sling around her torso, and take her outside to do her business … assuming we make it outside without incident, which hasn’t always been the case. Lots of janitorial duties ensue. But she’s our baby girl no matter what, and we aren’t ready to let her go

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