My Little Golden Book of Phobias

My house is swarming with men. The one in the garage is finishing my kitchen cabinets ( hurrah, finally) and the other is in the basement painting said doors of cabinets. I'm still in my bathrobe. There are acres of leaves to rake on the estate but I'll get to them later.

I never know what to do with leaves. Mulch is good, very good for the gardens but cripes, there are oceans of leaves. Oceans.

Tonight is my writing group and I'm going, no babies or anything. We will eat and drink and laugh. And read poems. And behave ourselves. Well, sort-of.