On Saturday, Himself and I spent a rather frantic hour adjusting drainpipes to conduct the off-fall of water from the roof into the middle of the yard. The weather report ominously warned of a ferocious storm system bound directly for Stratford, and I did not want a repeat of last Monday's near wash-out around the air-conditioner.

So now we have six feet of drainpipe attached to the end of the down-spout and propped up at the proximal end on a stack of patio stones. At the distal end, a plastic accordion extension reaches out into the bald patch where we used to have lawn, before the landscaper's Bobcat entered our lives. It looks like hell and it's definitely a tripping hazard, but it puts the water where it won't do any harm and might actually do some good. And it's temporary -- only until the new air-conditioner goes in ELSEWHERE and we can put a rain barrel in that spot. Or maybe two.

On Saturday afternoon, we drove to Chatham (two hours down the 401) for a family gathering