People, what is up with the mass exodus into my basement by the roly-poly population of my backyard? They just meander everywhere- the bathroom, laundry room (HOW do they get into the dryer?), under the couch, into all the nooks and crevices. Nutmeg bats them about when he comes across them, I vacuum up their newly dead roly-poly kin each day. Do they enjoy moving into a place that offers no food or water? Do they like stumbling across dead brethren? I'm baffled, friends, plum baffled. Also, I'm kinda tired of them; I like r-ps when they remain outside because they are cute and the way they go ball in times of anxiety is endearing. But inside? This is a different story, and I would like to say arrivederci. We had one gully washer after another today; seriously, this has got to so far be one of DC's rainiest summers in recent history. Blimey. I half expect mold and slime to suddenly take over everything outside. Suffice it to say that other than the tomatoes on my deck, I've given up on all other yard gardening until fall.
Did you all have a good Friday? After being up with Ol most of last night, I came home from camp drop-off and fell into the deepest of slumbers until noon. The kind where when you awake you have no idea where you are or what time it is. Nice but always rather jarring to me; I wake up and immediately think, "oh my god, did I forget the children somewhere? Am I late?" Our power resumed (thankfully) and now we're approaching bedtime. Big exhale!