Rain in August?

Jacob and Sophie at ease in the cottage

By August, everything in Texas is burnt and dried. Not this year—everything is soggy, and the air is humid. No concrete poured today and probably not until Monday. They jerry-rigged the fence so we can let the dogs out under supervision, but it’s too muddy. I caught two little boys walking along the path they had laid out to pour concrete into. Brought out the screaming monster in me as I ordered them out of the mud.

If it weren’t for all the complications it causes, I’d enjoy sitting here and watching the rain. Normally I would be so grateful, but this year I want to sing that old song, “Rain, rain go away/Come again another day.”

Jamie came over today to supervise the AT&T tech who changed us from U-Verse to Direct TV and hooked me up in the cottage. It was a day-long project for which he eventually called in extra help. Jamie said every time he started to deal with an office problem on his computer, the tech came in with a question. I had grandiose visions of going out to lunch and dinner—okay as lunchtime went by and I ate a ham and cheese sandwich, I pinned my hopes on dinner and began to think of places Jamie might like. He is not a sandwich guy, though I can live on sandwiches. Ultimately I sent him back to Frisco without any food—ah, mother guilt. He made me a tuna sandwich.

Not much else went right today either. I tried to upload a manuscript to a new site that posts digital books to various sites without the author having to format them, a huge bonus since formatting requirements vary from platform to platform. This was going to be an experiment for me, because, lazy me, I’ve been paying a formatter and posting only to Amazon select. Breezed through posting the blurb, ISBN and all that—and couldn’t get the manuscript to load.

Jamie plugged in my printer, as I had saved several things to print. Microsoft Explorer refused to respond, and nothing would print. I will have to send to Christian at his office if it doesn’t work tomorrow. Sometimes letting everything sleep overnight is magic.

Jordan has gone for her annual all-girls vacation to Key Largo where one of the girls’ family has a house. Christian and I are left adrift on the sea of our own ineptitude. We will do whatever about caring for Jacob—he likes it out here, and I enjoy having him, but I suspect Christian would also like his company. What has my life come to that I’m relying on a ten-year-old for companionship? Then again, he’s better company than many adults I know.

I may take to drink before the long weekend is over. Who am I kidding? There’s a glass of wine on my desk now.