Sunday

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow
Praise Him, all creatures here, below
Praise Him, above, ye heavenly hosts,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

I am clean and scraped of face and well fet. I have slept soundly and am greeted by the morning-birds-who-love-to-sing (and who are all naturally sopranos). There is gas in the vehicles and beer in the fridge; the grass is cut (courtesy of my new Weedeater, with the Briggs and Stratton Engine), and the world is awakening.

I have been tiling the living room mostly, for the better part of three days, also some trim and such. Everything has glue on it, the floor is frightfully uneven, but I'm blessed to be able to use my hands to better our home.

Time for Uncle Herschel!