Cemetery Karaoke

We had beautiful weather yesterday. Olga and I seized the opportunity for a leisurely walk in the sunny cemetery. She's not quite used to the warmer season -- she didn't seem to want to walk too far, and she was moving a bit slowly. No squirrel-chasing! I gave her plenty of water from the taps along the cemetery pathways to help her beat the heat.

(It wasn't that hot -- mid-70s, maybe? She's just a drama queen.)

Otherwise, it was a low-key day. I read and transcribed some old journals and did laundry. I was thrilled that the yard-waste recycling people finally, finally collected our bags of old leaves and sticks and cuttings -- a month and a half after we paid for the service. (Apparently it took a while for the bureaucratic machinery to process our payment and deliver our bag tags, without which the bags languish uncollected.)

Thanks for all your comments on my post yesterday. Now that I read them, I don't know where I got the idea that freezing was what would happen. It sounds like surgery is the gold standard.

Someone had a cranking karaoke party last night in the building behind our flat. I woke around 2:45 a.m. and it was really blaring, a group of people singing an unidentifiable modern pop song at the top of their lungs with all the windows open. I debated calling the police, and I flashed back to a time in New York (almost ten years ago to the day) when I was faced with a similar situation. But ultimately, I never did anything. I went back to sleep. Let the kids have their fun.