“Remoted” Day 272 (Sunday)

Today’s temperatures were around 50 degrees, which was perfect for yard work. At this time of year, yard work means harvesting the dog poo. The harvest is an opportunity to observe certain elements of the canine digestive system. Based on the colorful evidence dotting the yard, neither dog thoroughly chews the raw carrots they love, and lightly chewed raw carrots seem to travel through the canine system to be deposited largely intact on the lawn like confetti. Between the front and back yards and Moose’s new preferred spots along the length of in the driveway, the bucket was filled.

After the exciting time spent collecting natural specimens from the yard, there was soup making, which was far more pleasant. The time around and between the chores and cooking were spent on the couch with the Hallmark Channel and Lifetime Christmas movie offerings. I used to hate Christmas movies but now they are my preferred holiday mental numbing agent, delivered in doses every 90 to 120 minutes. Thanks to the standard movie formula it’s possible to wander away from the screen and do small tasks like check on the soup or even take a nap without missing much in the way of plot points. 

A Timeless Christmas

The 6:00 movie on Hallmark Channel involved a man who wound a clock and then fainted in 1903 and woke up in 2020, so that was a new and interesting twist and not so easy to get out of. Luckily, he awakened in his own home, which is now a history museum, so he was able to pose as a historical interpreter portraying himself. While he was busy falling in love in 2020 and learning about the past he disappeared from, I was busy wondering what would happen if he didn't find his way back to his own time. How can he get a job in 2020 when he is from 1903? He was an inventor back then, what will he do now with no identity and verifiable experience? I hate when modern reality seeps in and ruins a movie. 

Two bars downstairs.

More bars upstairs!

During a phone call with my sister, the call kept dropping. There were seven frustrating connections, some as brief as 11 seconds before we finally gave up and texted instead. Some of the conversation was trying to figure out whose phone was the problem. The cell service in my house is generally bad enough that the phone displays barely one bar, and I used to get the message “out of service area” while standing in my kitchen. The best place in the house for successful phone calls is upstairs in the bedroom where three or four bars might be obtainable, but that isn’t always very convenient. A later call with my brother dropped only once, but he said the volume kept changing, so it’s probably time to start investigating phone issues again. It’s been a few months, so we’re right on time.