As I got to the peak of the roof, I noticed some wasps hanging out in a space between the siding and the roof. They looked pretty groggy, not ready to start their day, just like I was feeling. We kept an eye on each other, both of us moving slowly but ready to spring into action if anyone made a sudden move.
When I returned at the end of the day for a second coat, they were much more spry. I would paint while trying to keep an eye on the scout circling my head. I was up and down the ladder a few times when they flew a little too close, but no stings.
I caught up on lots of podcasts while painting. I planned to tune into the live broadcast of Prairie Home Companion at 10:00am as they don't podcast the whole show, just the Lake Wobegon segment. At 10:00, a different show came on. I was worried, because Garrison Keillor had a stroke recently. I had heard that he was fine and planned to host the first show of the season, but no show this morning made me wonder.
The actual problem was it wasn't Sunday like I thought it was all day. I'm already losing track of days and didn't figure out my mistake until late in the day. I jumped online this evening just to check in on Keillor and found this on his website:
A message from Garrison, reporting what he did upon arriving back to his St. Paul home last night, Friday September 11, after being released from the hospital.
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I came home Friday evening, had dinner, wrote a limerick about my neurologist, and started writing about the experience of having a minor stroke. Nothing bad happens to writers — everything is just material.
Last Monday I suffered a stroke
Which affected the way that I spoke,
But it revved up my brain,
Which they cannot explain,
And now, when I think, I smell smoke.
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