The early morning sunlight coming through my patio door brightens a large rectangular patch on the sage green carpet, the same carpet that needs a shampoo.
I have delayed that chore with a pretty good excuse- it has been much too humid lately for it to dry properly. Outside, I see clippings on the ground surrounding the hedge, evidence of my twenty minute yard work commitment for last week. We have had a good monsoon this summer and I am grateful for the much needed rain, which is never enough here in the high Arizona desert. I can judge the success of the monsoon by the proliferation of weeds in my yard that I see through the door. Perhaps I will tackle those weeds for twenty minutes this week. Pull some big ones and spray the rest. The photina, oleander, bird-of-paradise, lilac, and mesquite tree all need trimming. I try to keep the tops of the oleanders below the roof line, but somehow they are now three feet above it. I have a note, in my head, to take the clippers to those guys, but I seldom come across it.
I can see the Chevy and have a mental note to change the oil and filter. The new oil and filter I bought two weeks ago are in the garage, but I can't see them. Now, the dog is at the patio door wanting to come in. I'll have to bring baggies out and collect her things, later. I sat here to work on Stinger Maguire, my new book, and I actually did some research, but only wrote this blog post. I shouldn't have opened the drapes and seen all the work opportunities outside; it's too hot to work out there.
I can also see the hot tub on the patio, which often helps form my daily itinerary. My plan is this: fifteen minutes in the hot tub, make a peanut butter sandwich, and eat it on the way to the golf course.