The weather today is beautiful, so we make an effort to get outside for some vitamin D. Peter takes the top drawer of his desk out into the sun to sort, I cut grass and trim plants.
But we do have some moments of excitement:
- Our weekly food drop arrives, thanks to Rosemary, and we have a well-stocked fridge again.
- Events cause me to break quarantine, very briefly.
- We are checked out by the cops.
Fortunately items two and three don't coincide, and Peter is able to tell the nice policeman who bangs on our door at about 7:15pm that we are self-quarantining, doing the right thing, showing him the empty bags on our doorstep not yet collected by R as evidence that we're having our food delivered, not going out.
The brief breakout went like this:
I go to the garage to put rubbish in the bin. When I open the door from the garden, I find the electronic garage door is open. I pause wondering how it got that way, then decide that the first priority is to shut it again, so I press the button. But before it closes, the cat shoots in from the garden, through the garage and out the slowly closing door, with me in hot pursuit hoping to grab him before he disappears. Not quite, I'm only in time to see him disappear under a parked car. Cat owner on knees beside car. Cat taking no notice of incitements to come out. When cat finally moves, cat owner isn't fast enough getting off her knees to catch him before he gets under the next car. Game continues for three cars before curiosity about a neighbour's gate gets the better of him and I'm able to grab him. Of course the garage door is by now firmly shut, and I don't have a remote with me, so I have to sprint round from Little O'Grady Street to Finlay Street, clutching 9kg of cat, and then knock on my own door to be let in again. Just as well the cops weren't checking then.
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