I'm sitting here listening to the the pitter patter of little squirrel feet and their quarrelsome squawks as they feud over which family gets to settle in what segment of the walls for the winter.

When I get bored with that, I can go into the living room and watch the water drip into the bucket from the latest leak in the roof, as we get a rare rain. I wish the drips were a bit more rhythmic.

Don't it make you feel nostalgic already, Maggie?