Could November finally be over? It’s been November again since last weekend, but spring made a surprise reappearance today. The sky, she is blue. Sunlight keeps falling on my head. It’s not exactly summer, but it’s a whole lot better than it has been.

I’m not even going to grouse about the wind that whipped through the canyon this afternoon. I wasn’t out in it anyway, except to walk out to the mailbox. And on that little trek, the latent puddles under the eucalyptus trees were more of a nuisance than a few leaves blowing around.

If this weather holds, I’ll lose my excuse for neglecting the yard. I had some momentum there, for a few weeks. I was using the weed trimmer during the week and the mower on the weekends. Then it started raining every weekend and I lost what little enthusiasm I had for that kind of labor. Now I need something to get me out of my chair in the afternoons, when I’d rather be reading.

If I thought I could sell it, that would be my excuse for a lot of my slothful ways. The fact that I’m such a slow reader is the real reason I don’t do housework. I could be swabbing out the tub scum or (eck!) dusting the cabinets, if only I didn’t have those last hundred pages I wanted to read. And lately I’ve expanded my negligence to the yard. It’s convenient to believe that reading a Maeve Binchy novel is a higher calling than chopping weeds or doing laundry.

That reminds me. I need to do a load of laundry. As soon as I finish this, if I remember by then.

If I don’t get around to working outside tomorrow, it’ll probably be for a good reason. Let’s see. What could it be? Maybe that Tammy and David are having a garage sale at the old house, trying to unload the last few things they don’t want to move. I’m sure I’ll be “needed” there when I could be doing some mowing. If only.