Floaters

Shelly & Kate on the water

Every time someone said "floaters" I couldn't help thinking of the ones you might spot in the toilet. Sorry, it's just me.

Got home Sunday night after two weeks of togetherness, the longest we've been in each other's constant company for more than 25 years. It was a lovely time, in spite of the reason for it, and I miss her already. She went back to work on Monday.

Here, Scott kept my flowers alive through the intense heat and, though they're weedy, I'm glad he didn't tackle that part of the job because surely he'd've pulled up something he shouldn't have. He trimmed up every tree in the yard, he says, so must've been on a roll. 

I was out in my housecoat this morning, weeding with a mug of coffee in one hand, but had to come in when the mosquitoes noticed me. At the moment Scott and his nephew Ryan, here from Calgary, are in the basement tackling the plumbing; there will be no water or sewer for much of the day. Before they turned the water off I ran a bowlful for washing hands and another for washing fruit and vegetables. Hope making lunch for the fellas won't be too much of a challenge.

There is still a lot to do here to deal with the water seeping into the basement and foundation. While I was away, Scott and his crew knocked out walls and hauled up wet and mouldy material to help dry out the basement, but the house still smelled musty when I first walked through the door. Probably one doesn't notice it so much when here all the time. It can't be healthy, and fixing it is a huge and costly job.