My college friend with the bionic hip called while I was typing this post. Then it was time for dinner, the news, and "Jeopardy!" in the interim developments made a much more entertaining (and disgusting) ending. I was supposed to do desk work today. Research increasingly indicates my desk work would've been a waste of time, but I think I'll still go ahead with it. But my big remaining outdoor project is fixing leaks in the tin shed roof and last night's weather report was basically: "Tomorrow is going to be beautiful until dark, when it will rain like a bastard and then it will get cold and nasty for the foreseeable future," so working on the roof leaks got bumped up over desk work.
Of course literally the minute I got everything out and set up and got up on the ladder with my assortment of tapes and pastes and sprays and sheet metal screws it started to rain. Not heavily. Just enough to mock me. Started putting stuff away and it stopped. So I set up again and it started again. I said "fuck it" and radically simplified my plan and decided to see how far I could get before it was raining too bad or it was time to walk The Dog. I got maybe 3/4 of what I hoped to do banged out before it started raining heavily enough that I didn't think I'd be able to get any of my leak-stopping materials to bond properly so I put everything away and worked on the raw timber inside the shed with a rag and some linseed oil. The goal of that is to permeate all this dry and/or rotted old wood with oil so its pores swell up and block/repel water. Of course while I was doing this it stopped raining again. I was tempted to go back and finish up but it was time to walk The Dog, it gets dark so soon, and with rain projected to hit big I didn't want to be caught out in the rain and the dark with The Dog, so I started on time.
And of course it didn't rain the whole time. It still isn't fucking raining as I type this.
Lately The Dog has been on a hide and bone jag. It's horrible and disgusting. She likes to walk along busy roads so she can sniff out bits of dried out roadkill hide to eat. So when she found a fresh, intact rabbit laying by the road on the way home, I decided to let her bring it home. A rabbit is small enough that she'll be able to eat it before bugs and rot get to it. Of course once we got home, The Cat wanted to be Out. So when I started typing this in the first place, the situation was such that The Cat and The Dog were both Out in the dark, with The Dog jealously guarding her precious prize. While I was talking to my friend on the phone, I decided to check on them and The Dog was almost ready to come In, but at the last minute she dashed off to a tree on the fenceline. She'd buried her rabbit there and I assume The Cat had come over to investigate it so she had to chase him off and exhume the rabbit to go lay in the yard next to it again.
After "Jeopardy!" The Dog was at the door and ready to come in. No sign of The Cat. She was being twitchy and clingy so I decided to take my shower before going out to hunt for The Cat. Luckily the rain had held off and it was still surprisingly warm, but no cat. I came back inside and noticed something on the floor, out of the corner of my eye. Three, roughly equal sized piles of bloody rabbit. She must've eaten it so The Cat wouldn't get it and then couldn't keep it down. So I got to do the whole "Pulp Fiction" "The Bonny Situation" ("The Bunny Situation"?) bit of collecting up the parts (I'll spare you the detail but that took about 3 trips too. While I was doing that, The Cat decided to come In.) before getting to work with a roll of paper towels and assorted cleaning supplies.
Now I'm clean and warm and dry and inside. And so is everyone else. So is the house. Hopefully there is no more bunny for The Dog to puke up. And that's another horrible thing I never thought I'd have to deal with that I've dealt with.