Just looking back over my blogs; I actually used the title "cold" much more than "Bleh". Of course Rachael picked almost all my titles for me (yay for sisters). I also realized that a good half of my "travel" blog is comprised of whining about not traveling. The rest is whining about how hard it is to travel. Man, how do you deal with me?
My desk is set up in a corner of the Little House, so that I face the large sliding glass door when I am writing. I have the best view ever. I can see the mountain, just over the apple tree, and in between the two I get to peep into my neighbor's back yard (and kitchen). They have a tiny black cockerpoo who really, really likes to bark. It's not his fault, I suppose. There are at least three different cats that have an absolutely wonderful time taunting him. The grey tabby is at the chain fence right now. She perched on top for a while, faking an unsteadiness that drove him nuts, then jumped down so that her nose was less than an inch from his, which was pushing as far as it could through a chain link. He actually had to pull back to bark again, at which point the tabby would bob forward, then back again as he lunged. Oh what a good game.
Just to the right of that is the workshed. This is the third building on the property, the one that I have been avoiding thinking about. It's just too damn perfect. It needs to be done right, and I'm intimidated. The owner and I both have the same image, of a writer's/artist's/gardener's retreat, a typewriter facing the mountains, and a potting shelf covering one side.
It's beautiful. It has a sturdy look to it, even if it does have that old look that all good sheds and barns have. The colors progress, from red to where it meets the ground, up to brown, then silver and rust at the sky. On a day when the sky has that perfect Montana look, with a brilliant blue and big puffs of white, and the mountain is glowing green, it's just a little too perfect.
Having said that, it needs some work. I think there is only one small window, all the wiring is exposed (although there is electricity), it has strange chemical smells through it, and let's not even talk about the spiders.
Actually, let's talk about spiders. I had a run-in with another golf ball sized one today. He was dangling directly above the door to the Little House. He was wrapping up a bee, which I thanked him greatly for... before the Raid came out and the shoe come down. I'm sorry, I really am, I know spiders are good, I would love for him to suck the nasty venom out of more wasps and such, but there was no fucking way I was going to sleep with him right on the other side of a door with a 1/4 inch gap in the bottom. Ain't gonna happen. So I smushed him. And squealed. It really is like smushing a kitten when they're that size. Oh I'm so mean.