I just heard the trash collection truck pass the house but a heavy thunderstorm is raging and I didn't wade through it to put my small bag at the curb. It can wait till Monday. This is one of those days that after dawn it managed to get darker and darker until the dusk-to-dawn porch lights came on again. I have to be careful where I walk so I don't trip over Pepper who lurks closeby during storms. (There was a terrific clap of thunder at about 3am; my guest said she got up to use the bathroom and Pepper was hunkered down in that bathtub.)

It is with this weather we are waiting for UPS to deliver the oxygen machine and my friend's daughter is supposed to take her to lunch then drive her to Dallas. I think some of those plans are going to be on hold unless she arrives by boat. This rainy spring has allowed the grass and weeds to flourish but kept the soil to wet to work with the tiller. If my garden was already in it would be glorious (if it didn't drown; I do raised beds mostly but some areas get real soggy.)

A dog bed foam core got a bunch of dish soap massaged in this morning and is now soaking in the other tub. The newest bed, an expensive one, was ground zero for Cookie's skunk rubbing when she first ran in through the dog door.

This is the week from hell that just keeps on giving. The background soundtrack is the blare of warnings from my new weather radio. (A bright spot appeared, however: a new-to-me quilting program showed up today on PBS.)