It's Sunday, October 3 and the boys have turned on the electric fence, upgraded all the semi-awful lighting on the property to bright white LEDs so now when you drive down to the gate after dark it appears you are approaching a prison compound but when I complained about things such as ambience or aesthetic I was informed it was not up for discussion.
So many bears, PJ barks. This is safer.
(But for over a decade it's been generally fine, though we did add a lot when we bought the point.)
Then I realized other things have happened as well. I suddenly don't know any of the exterior door codes. The knives are gone. My favourite sewing scissors are gone. They've added motion sensors in areas of the house that didn't have them before.
Ah. I get it. It is a prison now. At least until closer to Christmas, right?
Also not up for discussion.
Lochlan looks so grim. But he also looks mildly relieved that he's organized all of this up front instead of playing catch-up every year, and I'm suddenly happy for him if he feels a little bit of comfort from that thought.
Did you move all of the meds? Also there are scissors in the bathrooms upstairs.
Got them.
Did you move the alcohol?
No, PJ finished what there was.
Oh. That explains his mood.
He hates this time of year, Bridget. So do I.
I bite my tongue not to say it and he watches me make it bleed.