It's been noisy around here for the last two days. Somebody over the back fence is doing work on their house with power tools. This afternoon it sounded like a sander was going. They must be refinishing a floor. I hope they finish soon. The racket disturbs the peace. I like my afternoons placid.
There's good news, though. The high temperatures are supposed to be in the mere eighties for the rest of the week starting tomorrow. Seeing those nines in the forecast days after day was beginning to depress me, so the eights are going to be a nice change. It will be even nicer when I start seeing sevens.
Last night I ended up eating popcorn for dinner, but today I managed to get something microwaved around four o'clock, and now I'm going to make a peanut butter sandwich. I got some retro peanut butter on sale a couple of weeks ago. It's not homogenized, so the oil separates and you have to mix it back in each time you use it or you'll end up with dry, clumpy peanut paste at the bottom of the jar. I don't know how people lived before peanut butter was homogenized. The stuff is pretty tasty, though.
In the absence of Mystery on PBS I'm making do with the reruns of old American network detective shows they run late nights on the Hallmark channel. American murders are nowhere near as engaging as English murders, but they'll have to do for now. Murder She Wrote comes on in a few minutes, and Angela Lansbury was at least born in England. Jessica never ends up dead, though, not even in the last show of the series. I think they missed a bet there.
But fist I'm going to spend a few minutes in the back yard, listening to the quiet sounds of night, with no interference from the buzzing of power tools