I was awakened this morning by the sound of the birds through my open window. This was not, mind you, the sweet sound of birdsong as portrayed in so many Hollywood versions of daybreak. This was the jarring, racous, unmusical invasion of Heckle and Jeckle and no less than several hundred, if not a thousand, of their closest friends and relatives; noisy magpies (or blackbirds, or starlings, or grackles … whatever you call them in your neck of the woods) chattering in the trees surrounding my lovely little acre. A migrating murder of crows, a gossiping, jabbering, discordant assault on my ears at 0650 on a Saturday morning. This was NOT a pleasant start to my weekend. The good news: it can only get better from here.

I’m off to do the grocery shopping thing, right after I clean the fridge and figure out what I need beyond potty paper and coffee. Hopefully, I’ll get the steps installed on my new deck this weekend — I miss my back door terribly.

I still have a few more Christmas presents to wrap. I’m undecided about putting up a tree this year — being an empty-nester, there’s not going to be anyone here on Christmas morning anyway.  The family will all meet up across town at my sister’s later in the day and exchange gifts there. I might put a wreath on the door and a big red bow on the mailbox, but I don’t see the sense in doing much more than that.