A Holiday

Andrew and I had Thursday and Friday off.  Thursday we went to the Cabin, and I spent three and a half days on my bum.  I didn't knit a stitch.  I read three books and several magazines.  I sat on the deck in a pink plastic Adirondack chair and drank coffee and rubbed the dog's belly.  Occasionally I'd take a walk.  It was glorious.

On Thursday afternoon when we got there, Andrew and I cleaned like banshees.  The cabin belongs to my Grandfather, and it belonged to my Grandma's parents before that.  I never check with Grandfather to see who has been there last, and it's always a bit of a crapshoot in terms of cleanliness and supplies.  We're not clean freaks by any stretch of the imagination, but at home we know it's our dirt.  At the cabin, well, you're just not sure what you'll find.  For example, this trip we found one flip-flop, one little girl's Hannah Montana shoe, and this:

Yes, the couch is hideous.  I don't understand where they come from.  I don't remember anyone in my family having a couch this ugly, yet all the couches at the cabin are atrocious.  It's a mystery.

Another mystery is why, when I lifted the cushion to vacuum, I found a zoo of plastic organisms.  One plastic organism is understandable, but I can't believe that anyone accidentally lost a couple ecosystems down the couch cushion.  This leads me to believe someone put them there on purpose.  It would appear that someone in my family is part squirrel--hiding things and then forgetting where they are.  Part of the challenge of sharing a space like this is that we don't want to throw away other peoples' things, which is why there is now a Hannah Montana shoe and a bunch of plastic organisms on the mantle.