Mud

The ice is almost gone. One glance at my kitchen floor should tell you what was under the ice. I’ve got to find a variety of grass thick enough and hardy enough to withstand Oklahoma drought, shade from the tree in the next-door neighbor’s yard, and the constant trampling of twelve fast-moving little paws. Maybe I can rustle up some of that shade-tolerant zoysia somebody told me about last year. Or maybe I’ll just surrender the fantasy. I’ve always said that the day you adopt a dog is the day you relinquish your right to a clean house. I just tell people that my living-room carpet is covered with little white hair because it’s an interesting new type of shag.

I wonder if they make linoleum in a muddy pawprint pattern?

I forgot to mention this at the time, but before the ice melted Saturday, I threw some sunflower seed out for the birds. We got quite a flock — lots of sparrows, a female cardinal, a mockingbird, and two or three gorgeous little black-eyed juncos. I didn’t get a picture of them because they were too skittish, but they were cute.

I finally got a hand free to hang up the lights I bought on sale at Target at the end of summer. They’re regular Christmas lights with little metal dragonflies attached to them. I hung them from the shelf above my desk. I like the soft, warm light they produce. I need to clear some of the junk off the shelf so it will look better.

That’s all. I should be sketching a mural on my wall, redesigning a Web site, and catching up on some studying I need to do, but what I am probably going to do in a minute is take a nap. This will prove to be a mistake, as I will go into the bedroom with the intention of sleeping for an hour or two, and then I will wake up at 8 a.m. when my cell phone alarm starts going off. But right now, I just want to sleep, and I just can’t seem to muster the energy to do anything constructive.

Emily