Morning sloth

The Sloth
~Theodore Roethke

In moving-slow he has no Peer.
You ask him something in his Ear,
He thinks about it for a Year;

And, then, before he says a Word
There, upside down (unlike a Bird),
He will assume that you have Heard--

A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.
But should you call his manner Smug,
He'll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;

Then off again to Sleep he goes,
Still swaying gently by his Toes,
And you just know he knows he knows.

Max is no sloth, but if a poem fits the moment it must be used. Both HE & SHE, when scheduled, are taking full advantage of the bed in the living room, waiting for C. They know the routine, although the last time she was here with her hip replacement they could share the space nicely.

C had her surgery to repair the troubles in mid-afternoon, and finally reached her room and anxious family at 9PM. She seemed good considering and they could then wearily make their way home, feeling relieved. T will visit at noon and get a better sense of how this round is going. Hopefully C will be reclining with a cat before we know it. In the meantime, no worries about an unused bed.

For the Record,
This day came in sunny and cooler with lovely dry air after last night's thunder and heavy showers.

The town just communicated via an emergency phone message system. West Nile Virus has been detected in Hanover. All outdoor activities should cease at dusk and precautions taken, bird and mammal variety borne by mosquitoes. Yikes. No more evenings on the patio.