One Man's Trash is Another Man's Treasure

Today I stepped into the shower in the middle of a beautiful sunny day. I hadn't washed my hair since Saturday and I promised myself that I wouldn't let it go another day.

You're welcome, Robert.

I emerged from the bathroom fully dressed with damp hair. No walking around your house in just a towel or a bathrobe luxuriously air drying when your nineteen year old brother lives with you.

Even if he walks around the house wearing only his boxers.

I looked out the front door and there was Eddie in a lawn chair making up for his winter induced Vitamin D deficiency by soaking up some much needed sunshine. He and George sat among my purple and white crocuses, George bouncing up and down and patting Eddie's cheek.

I love watching other people love my babies.

I checked some email, opened my google reader for the first time in three weeks (over 250 posts to read!) and combed my hair before I looked outside again.

Eddie and George are now sound asleep on that lawn chair out front. It's parade week in West Des Moines. The week when we get to pile all of the junk we have collected for the past year outside on the curb and a parade of people drives by and they pick through our stuff and take whatever they want before the city comes by to collect it and take it away.

I think I'll go get Georgie and put him in his bed before someone thinks he is a part of my pile and tries to take him home.