Men With Blue Shoe Covers

Here’s Lucy at Kincaid Park after a fresh ten inches or so:

Bigger.

She freaks me out whenever I see her “on point” like this. Peering into the woods possibly transfixed on a belligerent winter moose ready to commit a precious quantity of its meager caloric resource to a thorough stomping of me. Because there’s no way a moose could catch Lucy. You know what they say, when fleeing from angry wildlife it’s not critical you be the fastest in the group, just don’t be the slowest.

For the life of me I don’t understand how a 1,500-2,000 pound herbivore sustains itself through winter up here on dessicated twigs, branches and the occasional pastiche of wilted underbrush.

Anyhoo, turns out Lucy wasn’t pointing at anything in particular. Nothing I could detect anyway, when I turned and glanced into the woods fearful I’d see said moose rising like an apparition from the snow, hackles up ‘n ready to charge.

…

The men who wear the blue shoe covers are in the house today. The Happy Wife says the carpet really does appear cleaner after they’re through, but I wonder. If you expect a cleaner carpet you’ll see a cleaner carpet, no? An example of confirmation bias I think. Yet after years of marriage, and desirous of many more, I know better than to press my point of view on this. Plus the men with blue shoe covers left two new pairs of blue shoe covers for us to wear as we pad about on wet carpet. No extra charge, such a deal.

Just now the men are leaving. I overheard one man’s reassurance to the Happy Wife that the rug which he’d cleaned in the living room may not look like it’s been cleaned, but see here, if you turn on the light you’ll see it really has brightened up.

But of course!

Bless her, before they left the Happy Wife offered the men samples of her Christmas cookies, little white powdery balls of goodness.