July 31, 2017
We are just a going. A maritime expression, I have to admit I have not heard in a while, but it fits and as they say as the shoe fits etc. The weather is wonderful, the lack of water has made it so that we don’t have to mow the lawn as it is a lovely ocher color. The whole province is under a no burn order as an Island up north is on fire. Crews are battling up there, and just one place is sufficient.
As I wrote to a compatiote Iwas just “waiting for the next set of crazy to walk in.” and it idid, but first let me digress back a few days, as I have not, sat and imparted the crazy goings on here in mere days. I try to confirm by phone the day of reservations, mostly fto find out just when they will perch on my poarch. I recived a frantic call saying they had attempted to get me the night before, and as you my dear and gentle readers will remember, my policy of unplugging the phone in the middle of the afternoon, now as well as early evening. The city is hopping and all are “winging it.” in hope of discarding the restraints of modern life, phone in hand I will point out.
Thus I get a call, and I explain that I was swimming or sleeping or some such thing, and they will arrive, but did not. Their friends in an tin tent, do. They are tired, and old. (sounds like myself.) and they are not my guests, but after two hours, leave a note saying they will meet them in the next town over. I insist on a place, asking that they leave their phone on, no because it is too expensive. I tell them where they will meet. I hope they did. However the expected guests arrive, and they are beyond tired. Having driven to Bangor from Boston in a Cadillac. With a bladder infection, and having gotten lost three times. OFF they go to the room, shower, and dinner in that order. The next morning, they are different people it seems all bright and shinny.
The breakfasts are getting earlier and earlier. The house emptying out by 7:30 leaving laundry. My cleaning help, has come down with the sore throat that laid me low. I have a friend of a friend staying, he stays put and chats while I whirl around, bringing “the help” honey and lemon hot drink. The whirl continues, with the next guests arriving, after the standard walks around the blocks and chats with the neighbors, trips to the library.
Thus, I unplug the phone and the doorbell rings at midnight. I do not have them in the book but they apologize, as the car had given them trouble. I discover their reservation in the book but on the wrong day. UP and at it, listening to the cleaning and ablations of teeth as one room hurrahs to La Salle, a burb in Montreal this day and the other to the Island to play golf.
Lucy is doing extremely well, having gone swimming in the ocean, but not washed as we thought we would return, so she is a salty dog.
Never, never, never give up. Winston Churchill