My father used to say that to me as I would scurry about, doing what kids do when seasons and screen doors turn springy.
Actually, as I discovered, that’s not an accurate quote of the original line, but that’s beside the point at this point.
I’m heading out to Boston again tomorrow, leaving my mother — who seems to have rallied a bit — to her own devices. Her neighbors will check on her, as will I, by phone. It’s another house-hunting frenzy, and I’ll be back on Sunday. The mortgage rates are low, they have a buyer for their Boston condo, and my daughter is eager to find a back yard with a springy screen door.
So, even though I just got in, I’m heading out. Again.
Not much time for much else, what with the food preparation (to leave some for mom and take the rest for quick meals among the traveling) and the re-packing and getting the cat set for a couple of nights on her own. She’s still annoyed at me for the last trip.
But this should be the last such trip for me, since, if all goes well, those two oddities who never had cars or licenses and somehow managed to find each other and get married should be taking their driving tests and getting their licenses within the next week or so.
And then maybe I’ll be “in” for a while. At least until next month when I head out for my annual York Beach solstice vacation.