Good morning. I was dreaming about sorting laundry. There were items in the basket with tags still on, and none of the male family members would claim them.
Frank is going to help with chicken processing today at his friend’s house. He’s having breakfast now, and we’ll leave in half an hour or so.
Did I happen to mention that our furnace died yesterday?
Sorting your laundry indicates that will “receive unexpected benefits, either social or financial, through an acquaintance on whom you made a strong impression.”
I can’t do the animal processing thing. I was pregnant when I was “asked” to learn how to dress a pheasant, and I can’t deal with innards ever since. I don’t even want them in the same package. I hope Frank likes it! Does he get paid? Or is this just in the nature of a service project? Which is a better lesson than being paid.
The shower was mostly wonderful and I came out to open the curtains to see what kind of day we’re having. Fog, rain, ugh. Most of the morning. The furnace hasn’t kicked on since Wednesday morning, so the place is damp and smells like old tobacco again.