After church yesterday, our friend Mac invited The Squire to go to the movies with him – some sci-fi flick or other – so I went home and they went off. It hasn’t rained here in quite a while and some of my hanging baskets were getting mighty dry. Rather than get the hose, with all that entails, I took the baskets out to dunk them in the pond.
I hadn’t bothered to change my clothes, so I bent over rather than kneeling and getting the knees of my slacks dirty. Lost my balance, and fell smack into the pond! Fortunately, I let go of the plants and managed to turn myself so that I went in feet first. I am absolutely terrified of getting anything over my face, and falling into soft mud with no way to push myself upright would have had some pretty serious consequences.
And I got my slacks messed up, in spite of it all, and possibly ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes, to boot.
Later, going up to bed, I caught my toe on one of the carpet treads and it came right off the step. The double-faced tape had dried out until it was like a shed snake skin. I showed it to The Squire, and he said he would get some new tape today, as he had to go to Lowe’s anyway for a striker plate for the guestroom door.
This morning, he trotted off to the Y, and I got the wash sorted to go the laundromat. On my way back down I hit that tread and slid the last four steps. Did not do my back one bit of good. Really lucky it was near the bottom. God does look out for fools.
Blazer has decided that he needs to go out every morning around 6 AM. He makes quick work of it, and then curls back up in his bed, and I go back upstairs and do the same. I was just drifting back off this morning when some four-star obliviot rode up the street on his motorcycle with no muffler. Probably woke up everybody from Aberdeen to Baltimore. And then a train stopped on the CSX line. It takes a mile and a half for a fully loaded train to stop, so we were serenaded for quite a while with thump-clang-bump-bump-bump-clang. Sounded as if somebody was over there throwing washtubs down a fire escape.
thisendoftheswamp 
Ouch! You must be quite colorful by now. The X loved the road by your house for his rides. The only thing he enjoyed more was going through tunnels. Many times he could hear the bike’s engine sounds four or five times through one tunnel. A friend of ours lives by the train tracks and she had told me how she had called complaining about the train being so loud. Next thing she knew, they were even louder and earlier. She learned to just suffer through the horn blasts when they returned to normal.
After a while, we stopped noticing the blasts. They are a requirement of the FCC; trains are actually fairly quiet when they are running and without those blasts – three long, one short, and another long – to warn you at a crossing things could get awfully interesting.
As for your X – well, you know…
I love a train and I wax poetic about them, but I think I’d be hanging out the window wondering what all that noise was if I’d heard all that clanging and banging. Let’s make up a story about a broken-legged dog on the tracks and the engineer stopped to rescue it. Hope the rest of our day was quieter. (And thanks for the gentle nudge to get back to the blog) Hugs.