Ignoring it

There are 24 windows in our house that are now open. That's just upstairs. There are six more downstairs. There are also wide sliding glass doors, a set of French doors, a screened in porch connecting the upstairs with the downstairs. There are five ceiling fans up and two down plus another one on the porch. I love it! Especially when all of the windows are open. It's like outside moves inside. Sunshine and fresh air pour in. The cicada sing loud songs while squirrels dance in the trees. The wind chimes sweetly keep a beat as the ocean breeze is cooler than its been. Sitting in The Mermaid Lounge on the Beloved Back Deck I marvel at the brilliance of Fran's Thousand Shades of Green. The Hibiscus blooms are large and red. Goddess is happily laying at my feet and even Winston, the little gay dog, seems content. I know that I am, sitting here in running shorts and nothing else, with George Harrison singing on Pandora. It's a great Saturday morning! We have no plans ... no company ... no groceries ... no underwear ... nothing other than ourselves. I can't remember the last time this has happened. Goddess barks. I tell her to shut up. Winston, the little gay dog, starts dancing like a ballerina on meth. I want to beat his head against the Palm Tree with the smiling Oyster face, coconut bra and grass skirt. The doorbell rings. "Shit," I mutter as I ignore it.