These are trash stomping feet; they have that job every Wednesday. I just looked down there and remembered I had hurried grabbed any shoes to let me get out there and do the deed. Two trash bins side by side in the garage with a stepladder in between – I roll up my pant legs and these feet climb up and step into each bin on a piece of cardboard placed on top. Depending on the airbag percentage, I go down anywhere from mid-shin to mid-thigh. I climb out, add more bags and another layer of cardboard and do it again.
Glamorous, no? Oddly enough, I do get satisfaction out of it. I don’t think the shoes appreciate it; I know the one on my left foot which is on the right is pissed because I painted in him and his mate. See the little dots of garage door color? The black one and its buddy got off easy this summer. My lavender and brown jobbies got the call to ride the mowers and dig in and work when it was time to push the walk behind one. But then Summer borrowed the black ones now and then and they are a little stretched out. Sigh.
But tonight here we are: AmeliaJake feet and shoes . . . and we’re content.

I was going to switch the lights on my wreath yesterday, and I did, but not enough. I discovered I had a set of multi-colored lights just like the clear “cool white” ones. So I headed out to switch bulbs, and I did. As I was working on this, I began to think that perhaps leaving some of the bright lights would be not a bad idea . . . but it was. So today I am going back out and switch the rest, although I’m fairly certain I’m going to leave three buried behind some branchlets to see if that works. I doubt it but you never know.
Good thing this wreath isn’t on the roof.