So soon it's time to get Paul his breakfast, again, something Mom usually does, especially on slow mornings like this when she doesn't have any other committments. So I get out his cereal and then I hear sounds of a computer game from downstairs.
"How long were you down there?"
"I don't know... half an hour, I guess."
"Are you going to get Paul's breakfast?"
"You can do that. You're up there."
Blearghhh. I mean, it's no big deal, but I'm offended by the principle of the thing. So yeah, she wasn't out with the horse, but apparently she was up at 7 to deal with her. For the record (I've said this a hundred times, but anyway), I think having a horse in a suburban area like this is just ridiculous. The worst part is that her paddock sucks (too many rocks and trees, Meigh's always hurting her feet, and she can't run in it anyway), and Mom doesn't do much of anything with her. Oh, she's changing her tune a little now, since the horse is back from Cape Breton for the first time since just after Juan. But that'll pass, and she'll go back to ignoring Meigh just like she did before she went to be broken in and trained. Of course, Mom was going to do it herself, but she let three years slip by before finally admitting to herself that she didn't have the time or inclination. (Of course, the rest of us have been speaking out periodically since the horse arrived, but anyway.)
So of course the only reason I'm up now is that I didn't want to go to bed for 30 minutes only to have to get up again. I'm going out to see a play with Will. You may be treated to my thoughts on that and some other things when I return. Aren't you lucky?