It’s gray and gloomy outside but the sky isn’t leaking. The bedroom forniture is balanced on two by fours, the shop vac sits silently and without the aid of any male Dutch children, the floor is dry. Doug dug (hee hee) until his body screamed “no more”. Then, he stripped down to his underwear, rinsed himself off with the water hose (brrr) and came inside for a bath. The neighbors have neither complained nor rejoiced about the front yard partial nudity, so I guess our status as “redneck kings of the cove” remains unchanged. I want to hide in bed today and pretend I’m somewhere else, but the children don’t understand pouting unless it’s for something reaally important, like ice cream.