I spent some time clearing out sodden leaves and filth from the area outside the apartment door, and now I am sitting happily at my green picnic table for the first time in Aught Eight, enjoying a Sacred Cow IPA from our very own Corner Brewery.
I let Hank out and he stumped around in irritation under the tree beside me, sniffing the air and complaining pathetically the way only ancient cats who remember more sprightly springs can complain. Then he stumped angrily back inside. And Scott... well, he's busy watching "The Rockford Files" on Netflix.
So it's just me and my Sacred Cow. And my computer, which, I have to say, has just at this very moment fallen victim to a rather liberal dosing of bird poop. I have noisily shooed the culprit off and wiped off the screen, but this could be problematic...! I won't worry about it for now. No bird poop will ruin my happy disposition, by gum! Although it is, in fact, gummy, which is why it concerns me, computer-wise... :-/
Never mind. It's spring! Bring on the bird poop. I don't care.